Seasick
by Sybilia
Summary: Jane and Maura must confront their complicated feelings for one another when Angela sends them on a 7-day lesbian cruise to the Caribbean. Jane struggles with her identity and Maura struggles with mediocre accommodations. Will the pair be lovesick or simply seasick?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I've been kicking this idea around for a while- 2 "straight" friends on a lesbian cruise and all the opportunities for discomfort and humor that may arise from the situation. I'm aiming for a short fluffy piece around 10 chapters without murder or too much angst, but I'm never quite sure exactly what will happen until it does. There will be a happy ending and Rizzles without a doubt. Thanks for reading.

* * *

><p>"January 19th is on average the coldest day of the year and today is January 19th. Although the coldest recorded temperature in Boston was on February 9, 1934 when the actual temperature hit –9° F, –18° with the wind chill factored in. The Harbor froze over, stranding hundreds of vessels in six inches of ice, and people went skating right off of Dorchester Pier. Of course deaths from influenza, pneumonia, hypothermia, and various respiratory illnesses rose during that winter, and a temporary morgue was erected in the old Armory to house bodies until the ground thawed sufficiently for burial." The doctor's eyes were bright and happy as she recited statistics from under the warmth of her anorak.<p>

"Fascinating, Maura." Jane would have rolled her own eyes, but she feared they would crack and shatter. "How much longer is this going to take? What a fucking idiot I was to volunteer for this."

"You were being a good friend to Barry. Exhumations are not his strong point." The two women paced among snow covered tombstones as workers chipped away at the frozen ground, making slow progress toward the casket. Eventually the foreman arrived with a ground-warming machine hitched to the back of a Boston General Services pickup truck and the work pace increased from glacial to merely snail-like.

"Aren't you cold? No, forget I asked; cyborgs don't feel the cold."

The M.E. smirked. "I'm comfortable, Jane, because I've dressed appropriately in layers beginning with thermal undergarments from the ski shop, quality gloves and a parka rated for temperatures below freezing. You're wearing a coat of questionable provenance and gloves you bought at the dollar store."

"Can't we wait in the car?"

"No. The statute clearly states that the Medical Examiner and a detective assigned to the case must be present during the entire process."

"Maura, we can be just as present if…" Jane was interrupted by "Mambo Italiano" sounding from her hip pocket, Rosemary Clooney's voice rang clear and clarion through the lined fabric of her work pants and the heavier down of her jacket.

"Grrr, my mother." She fumbled with cold-stiffened fingers under her coat for her phone and just managed to pull it out when it stopped ringing. "Shit."

Maura's phone immediately began blaring the same tune. She pulled it from her purse and moving aside one ear muff, held it to her ear. "Angela? Is something wrong?"

"I won! I won! I won! I've never won anything in my entire life; not a scratch off or a game of Bingo, but now I've won!"

"Slow down. What did you win?"

"A dream vacation. I am going to take my Janie on a ladies cruise to the Caribbean! Can you believe it? Is Jane with you? Put her on the phone."

Maura handed the phone to the detective who was hunched over and blowing into her cupped hands.

"What, Ma?"

"I wrote an essay, Jane, and they loved it."

"Who?"

"The cruise people."

"What cruise people?"

"I don't know, the paper is here someplace. But you and I are going to the warm, sunny Caribbean."

"If it's Carnival, I'm not going. Those ships are floating leper colonies. I'm not spending my vacation vomiting over the railing and shitting in red plastic baggies. I'd rather freeze in Boston."

"It's not Carnival, Jane. I watch the news, I wouldn't go on one of those either. It was a woman's name…Ida? No. Alicia?"

Maura had moved in close to listen and Jane had instinctively pulled the smaller woman against her, huddling close to capture her body heat.

"Olivia?" The doctor suggested.

"Yes. That's it!"

Maura chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing, Jane."

A metallic groan alerted them that the backhoe had reached the casket, and Jane quickly ended the conversation, promising to join her mother for a celebratory dinner that evening. A moment later the heavy, robotic arm of the earth mover emerged from the now open grave, a rose-colored metal coffin lying across its yellow steel palm.

Jane happily bounded on cold-numbed legs toward her old, dented Crown Vic. "C'mon, Maur. I'll buy you a soy latte on the way to the morgue. I need coffee. I'm cold from the inside out."

"No, I'm going to ride with the body. I can't legally let it out of my sight once it's out of the earth."

"Maura! No one's gonna steal your smelly old twelve-years-buried corpse. Even the sickest necrophiliac wouldn't hit that shit. Come on."

The M.E. looked wistfully over her shoulder as the grounds crew slid the casket into the back of a waiting morgue van and slammed the doors. She bit her lip and took a step towards Jane, then thought better of it and climbed into the front passenger seat of the van. "Get me one to go and a hot chocolate for Susie Chang."

"Dork." Jane muttered as she slid behind the wheel. She cranked up the heat and flipped on the ancient stereo, pushing a battered Springsteen cassette into the dashboard. She began to croon along to "Atlantic City" as the car slowly warmed up. "…put on your stockings baby 'cause the night's gettin' cold." Unbidden the image of Maura pulling a silky thermal undergarment up her shapely leg came into Jane's mind. She closed her eyes and allowed herself 15 seconds of fantasy before slamming the car into gear and pulling out behind the rapidly disappearing morgue van. Being in love with her best friend was an exercise in exquisite torture, but Jane had been torturing herself for so long, she couldn't imagine living any other way.

* * *

><p>Angela Rizzoli was happily shucking clams in her warm kitchen when Jane arrived with a squirming Jo Friday tucked into her jacket, a small brown nose just sticking out above the zipper.<p>

"Janie, I bought her a beautiful coat for Christmas. Why don't you let her wear it?"

"She hates it, Ma." She stamped her heavy boots on a festive winter doormat, knocking off wet snow and mud.

"Take them off, Jane. I just mopped the floor in here after Tommy left. Where's Maura?"

"On a date." She scowled and stomped in sock-clad feet toward the refrigerator. "Beer?"

"We're celebrating tonight. Open the prosecco."

Jane didn't feel like celebrating, but she did as she was told pouring two glasses and handing one to her mother. She looked through the kitchen window over Angela's shoulder where a clear view of Maura's front door beckoned, the porch light lit and welcoming. Jane would be able to see the doctor's date walk her to the door and kiss her good night. She hoped he would leave after that kiss, but she knew there was a good chance he would go inside for more. She imagined some polished douche in an expensive suit putting his manicured hands on Maura and it was almost too much, the thought was painful, or maybe it was the way the image made her clench her stiff hands and tighten the muscles of her jaw that caused the pain. She shook her head and turned back toward her mother who was looking at her warily.

"What?"

"Is something bothering you, baby?"

"Nah. It's just work."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Can't."

"Sure you can. I heard all about it in the café; some bus driver in Revere poisoned his wife with anti-freeze. Can you imagine? Vince said he was mixing it into her diet breakfast shakes for months."

"Korsak has a big mouth."

"He knows I'm not going to call the _Globe_ or go on Oprah. I can keep a secret. So you and Maura dug up the body of the first wife?"

"Yeah, the daughter thinks her mother may have been poisoned too."

"Was she?"

"Dunno. Gotta wait for lab results."

Jane put aside her untouched prosecco and headed toward the fridge for a beer. "I had to watch Maura do a really nasty autopsy today; the woman's been in the ground since 2002…"

"And yet…" Angela dropped a handful of chopped parsley into the simmering sauce. "…Maura has put it out of her mind and is out enjoying herself and you're here brooding."

Jane sighed and reached into the fridge for her beer, thought better of it and pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper. She knew she was being difficult. Angela was clearly bursting to talk about their upcoming vacation.

"So tell me about this cruise. First of all, when is it? I may not be able to get the time off from work."

"We're leaving this Sunday and I've already cleared it with Sean. You have 116 unused vacation days." The older woman reached a hand up and laid it on Jane's cool cheek. "Baby, you look like you really could use a vacation."

"Right."

"Jane, you don't look very happy. Don't you want to go someplace warm and lie in the sun?"

"Of course I do."

Angela looked into her daughter's dark eyes for a long minute and then turned away, not quite convinced. "Do you want linguine or shells?"

"Shells; they hold the clam pieces better."

Angela crossed to the closet and pulled out a box of Ronzoni medium shells, dumping half of it into a pot of salted water boiling on the stove. "Maura says I can't buy Barilla anymore; they're homophobic."

Jane grunted. Her lack of enthusiasm was catching, and the excitement Angela felt since receiving her winner's notice began to seep out of her like air from a wilting balloon. She felt her eyes growing moist.

Jane crossed to her mother and kissed her on top of her head. "I'm sorry, Ma. I am excited for you, um, for us. I'm just tired. You're right…" She looked again at Maura's front door. "…a week out of Boston is exactly what I need."

She dropped into a kitchen chair and popped the top of her soda. "Where'd you hear about this contest?"

Angela's enthusiasm returned as quickly as it had left. "I found an advertisement in Maura's garbage; one of those glossy postcard things."

Jane raised a hand. "Wait a minute; you went through Maura's garbage?"

"Just her recycling. I occasionally take magazines and catalogues."

"Why don't you just ask her to pass them on to you when she's done with them? You don't have to go dumpster diving in her trash."

"I don't want to bother her, Jane. She's already done so much for me…"

"You're asking her for a used _Vogue_ magazine, not a kidney. Jesus, Ma. But back to the contest; you found an ad in Maura's garbage can and then?"

"It said that there was a contest and all you had to do was email them why you really needed a cruise this winter. So I wrote out my essay and typed it into an email on the ipad that Maura gave me for my birthday. Those things are a bitch to type on, by the way. This morning I got a call from the cruise company and I didn't really believe I'd won until the official documents came by registered mail. I had to sign for them and everything."

"Good for you, Ma! This wasn't random luck. You earned this vacation. I'm proud of you."

"The woman said they got thousands of entries and my essay was the best. Can you believe it? Pinch me, Jane, because I can't."

Jane reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'd love to read it."

"Yeah? I saved the copy that I wrote by hand." She quickly stood and left the kitchen, returning a moment later with a folded sheet of paper which she passed to Jane.

The essay was written on yellow legal paper in Angela's own neat round cursive, "Catholic school" handwriting she called it, though Jane had gone to Catholic school for a dozen years and her own writing was small and cramped and barely legible.

Jane cleared her throat and began to read.

_My name is Angela Rizzoli and I just turned 60. I can't believe it myself. In my mind I am still 18 and slim with an unlined face and knees that don't hurt._

"Janie, don't read it out loud. It embarrasses me."

"Okay, Mom." She continued in silence.

_I live in Boston where I was born and where I raised my three children. I'm a newly divorced woman and just beginning to feel confident again to go out in the world without a man at my side. I don't miss my husband; I was more lonely living with Frank than I am living alone. He finally left me, but in truth I was left alone long before he walked out the door with a woman younger than our daughter. _

Jane felt a vein begin to throb in her temple; thoughts of Frank elevated her blood pressure.

_I want to win this vacation very badly. Not for myself, but for my daughter Jane. _

She looked up over the page, quirked an eyebrow at her mother and continued reading.

_She's a homicide detective here in Boston and hasn't had a real vacation in years. In fact I checked with her lieutenant and found out that she has 116 vacation days saved. I don't know what she's saving them for because all she does is work. The only time Jane isn't working is when she is recovering from being shot or stabbed in the line of duty (see attached). She's a hero, my Janie._

"What did you attach?"

"A couple of articles from the newspaper. I didn't want the cruise people to think I was exaggerating."

Jane groaned, but kept reading.

_Jane recently turned 40 and is still single._

She groaned again and shot her mother a sour look.

_She's a beautiful girl; tall, dark and handsome like her father, but under her bravado I'm certain she has my heart. When I saw the ad for your cruise with all the beautiful, happy women laughing together in the pool and on the beach I thought, 'Janie could be there, laughing in her bikini with an arm around a friend and a Corona in her hand.'" She should be there and if she is unwilling to book an Olivia Cruise for herself, I hope that I can win one for her and use all of my motherly guilt to make her go with me._

Jane laughed at her mother's honesty.

_In my heart I hope that she will find true love onboard, but I'd be happy if she were only to find a circle of friends like herself that she could keep in touch with back in Boston. Maybe then she wouldn't spend all of her free time with a bunch of guys in a cop bar. A mother's dearest wish is to see her child happy, and I hope that going on this cruise will be a step toward happiness for my daughter, whom I love more than I can put into words._

Jane wiped at her eye and hoped her mother didn't notice.

"Did you like my essay?"

Jane bit back a sarcastic retort and said only, "Yeah. Thanks, Mom. It will be nice to get out of the cold for a week."

On her second bowl of shells and clam sauce, a bit of the old Rizzoli sarcasm had returned. "So what's the catch? There's no such thing as a free lunch. Do we have to spend a day letting some pompous dickweed try to sell us a timeshare?"

"No, no timeshares, Jane."

"Do we have to wash dishes or wait tables in the first class dining room?"

"No, nothing like that."

"But there is something?"

Angela looked uncomfortable. She fidgeted with her fork and stood to refill her bowl.

"Out with it, Ma."

"We have to agree to let Olivia use our images for future advertisements. They may take some pictures during the course of the cruise and they would own the rights to those images. We both have to sign a release in order to validate our boarding tickets. I sent in a picture of you in your dress blues and in your softball uniform, and the cruise people seemed to think you were very photogenic."

Jane frowned; she knew there was a catch, but this one didn't seem too onerous. She imagined posing with her mother and the ship's captain, who in her mind looked exactly like Captain Stubing from the _Love Boat_ or with a group of octogenarians pushing shuffleboard markers from their wheelchairs or grinning through their dentures holding tropical drinks. Really, who else went on cruises but old people?

"Fine. Where do I sign?" She skimmed the first few paragraphs of the release and scratched her signature with a flourish.

* * *

><p>"Think you can survive a week without me?" Jane dropped a greasy paper bag on her desk knowing Vince Korsak would be on it in a minute.<p>

"Definitely not. No one better die in Boston while your gone. Jelly doughnuts?"

"Yup."

"Can I have two?"

"You can have four. Just save one for me and one for Frost."

"Where is he?" She gestured across at her partner's empty desk. It was a rare day that Jane beat either man to work.

"Morgue." Vince mumbled around his doughnut, raspberry jam dripping from one corner of his mouth onto his greying goatee.

"Why?"

"Someone has to stay on top of the anti-freeze case while you're baking your buns in Barbados."

"We're not stopping in Barbados and why would you send Barry to the morgue? He hates dead things."

"I was eating."

"Ugh." Jane stood and took a final swig of her coffee before heading toward the elevator.

She was dreading the sight of Maura this morning, afraid that her friend would be glowing and chipper; signs of a successful date, though Maura was often glowing and chipper or worse, yawning and chipper; signs of a successful date and then some. What if she was wearing the same outfit as yesterday? Jane had stayed with her mother until the older woman was struggling to keep her eyes open during Jay Leno's monologue and Maura had still not returned. This morning Jane drove past the M.E.'s townhouse as usual to clear the overnight snow off of the doctor's car, but her Prius was not there. Had she already left for work, or did she not come home the night before? She struggled to remember what her friend was wearing yesterday; _a dark green sweater that snugged tightly across her breasts and dark pants. No, maybe that was Wednesday. A silky red blouse? That pewter-colored wrap dress? We were walking around the cemetery; definitely pants. Shit._ She had no idea.

The elevator doors slid open and Jane composed her face into a look of blasé nonchalance. Maura was in scrubs and a white lab coat; no help there, leaning over a stack of photos splayed across a steel autopsy table. Frost stood rigidly beside her, his face tight, never glancing at the photos between them as he listened to the M.E. describe the previous day's autopsy.

"People assume that the embalming process and an air-tight coffin will preserve them for eternity, but anaerobic bacteria actually does greater damage and will lead more rapidly to putrefaction, as you can see here."

"How interesting." Frost badly faked enthusiasm, but the M.E. didn't notice.

"It is!" Maura's eyes shone the lightest golden green behind a pair of black framed glasses.

Jane frowned. Maura never wore her glasses to work. Had she lost a contact sleeping out?

"Imagine putting an uncooked hamburger into a tupperware container and sealing it. The meat will suppurate and liquify rather quickly…oh, good morning, Jane."

"Jane!" Frost looked ready to cry, little beads of sweat were standing along his hair line although the morgue air was cool, bordering on cold.

"I got this, Frosty. There's a jelly doughnut on your desk for after you barf in the men's room."

"Thanks, partner." He was out the door, wiping at his face with a wadded paper towel.

"Uncooked hamburger? Really, Maura, spare Barry the details when you can."

"But he seemed so interested."

"He's very polite. What's with the four eyes?" Jane gestured at Maura's glasses. She hadn't meant to say that. Maura's eyes were greatly magnified behind thick lenses, giving her the innocent appearance of a child or a cartoon puppy. Maura in glasses made Jane feel protective and mushy all at once.

"Oh, I woke up with sore eyes. It's a winter problem. I think it's the artificial heat; it just dries me out."

"And…did you wake up at home?" Jane could have punched herself for asking, but she had to know.

"Of course."

"How was your date?"

Jane grimaced. _Damn Rizzoli, leave well enough alone._

"He was…" Maura bit her lip and shook her head, trying to find the right word. "…selfish." She finally finished.

"Selfish? What does that even mean? Like he finished your dinner when you weren't looking or he hogged the TV remote?"

"No." Maura raised an eyebrow. "It means he was unreciprocating. I won't be seeing him again."

"Oh….kay." Jane inwardly cursed her nosiness, now she'd have to live with the image of Maura with some guy's junk in her mouth. _Blech_. Why did she ask? More disturbing than the actual image was the idea that someone could spend an evening with the beautiful and kind doctor and not want to please her.

"Jane, you're blushing."

"I'm not. It's hot in here."

"We're in the morgue. It's barely 60 degrees."

Jane turned toward the door, eager to change the subject. "Let's go get the first Mrs. DeVivo back in the ground."

"All right, just let me change. After the re-interment I have strict orders from your mother to take you shopping and not to bring you home without a full week's worth of cruise-worthy outfits."

Jane's shoulders sagged. "I have an entire closet of summer clothes. I don't need anything."

"I've seen your summer clothes, Jane. Cut off jean shorts and a Barry Manilow T-shirt are not appropriate cruise wear."

Jane spun around. "Barry Manilow! I don't own anything Barry Manilow."

Maura waved a dismissive hand. "I just said the first rockstar name that came into my head."

"Barry Manilow is not a rockstar. Besides, who cares what I wear on a ladies cruise. We all know that's code for a thousand octogenarian women knocking each other out of the way to get to the three single men who managed to outlive their wives."

Maura stared blankly at the tall detective. Could Jane really not know what kind of cruise she was going on? Impossible. This was just her friend's sarcastic humor. If she responded, she'd be met with a snarky, "Duh" or worse, she'd make her friend uncomfortable. Jane never openly discussed her sexuality, but it was pretty clear to Maura that she wasn't particularly attracted to men.

"Two nice outfits, Jane, and a new bathing suit. You can sit in a chair and play games on your phone and I'll do all the shopping. You'll have complete veto power."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and prepared to be miserable.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane lifted the heavy icebreaker and slammed it down again and again. Her triceps were burning and the hair tucked under her wool cap was damp with sweat. _Fuckin__' __Tommy and Frankie and their half-assed way of doing things._ If her brothers had only cleared the driveway completely instead of making a path barely wide enough to walk she wouldn't be out here today trying to split apart an ice mountain. The new snow fell dense and wet on top of the older, blanketing the treacherous mounds in an innocent white down. Jane flung aside the icebreaker with disgust and stood surveying the hours of work ahead of her. She should be packing for her cruise, but how could she leave this mess for Maura. With another big storm forecast for the coming week, the doctor may want to pull her Prius into the garage and opt to drive the big Red Jeep that she kept for the very worst New England weather.

As if Jane's thought had summoned her, Maura, a vision in red, appeared at her side wearing a snug-fitting down parka and matching crimson snow boots.

"Jane, you don't have to do this. I can hire someone to clear the drive."

"It's the very least I can do. My mother lives here for free." She picked up the shovel and dug into the closest mound.

Maura was quiet and Jane knew that she shouldn't have said what she did; implying that her friend's kindness needed to be repaid only served to cheapen it.

"I'm sorry, Maur, it's just my frustration speaking. I'm doing this because I want to take care of… um…somehow make your life easier, not because I have to."

The doctor tilted her head and regarded her flustered friend, out in a roiling snowstorm in only a Bruins sweatshirt, knit cap and gloves.

"You're doing this because you're stubborn."

"That too."

Maura picked up the discarded icebreaker and lifting it to chest level, let the steel blade drop onto a hard frozen embankment. The glaze shattered with a satisfying snap.

"It's much easier if you let gravity work for you."

"Thank you Isaac Newton."

"You're welcome. I'll crack and you shovel."

"No. Go inside, Maura. I got this."

The M.E. could be just as stubborn; soon a regular thunk-crack accompanied the scrape-thump of Jane's shovel.

"I know your secret, Jane."

"What?" She froze, the sweat running between her shoulder blades turning icy. She clung to the plastic handle of her shovel to keep her hands from trembling.

"I know that every morning you stop here before work to clean the snow off of my car and bring my paper to the door."

Jane exhaled. "Yeah, that's me. I can't see you having to scrape ice off your windshield in your stiletto pumps and cashmere ball gown."

Maura laughed. "Chivalry is not dead."

"No. Jane Rizzoli is an officer and a gentleman."

They worked in silence for the better part of an hour. Jane had to admit that the job was less daunting with a partner and there was the added benefit of watching Maura exert herself. The doctor's face was flushed, sweaty tendrils of dark blonde hair clung to her cheeks, and her breasts strained against the quilted material of her parka each time she raised the icebreaker.

Jane licked her chapped lips and pulled her eyes back to the half-cleared drive.

"You know I bought my first car with money I earned shoveling snow."

"Really? What was it?"

"A 1979 Oldsmobile Omega, cost me $300. It was a real old rust bucket, but it was mine. I named her the Blue Bomb and drove her everywhere, even in weather like this. The rear-wheel drive sucked in snow and I fishtailed all over Boston, but as a teenager I thought I was invincible."

"What color was it?"

"Duh! Blue, Maura. Cobalt blue to be exact with baby blue bench seats."

"Ohhh bucket seats... very nice for making out." Maura waggled her eyebrows.

"Eww. Never happened." Jane blushed, but with her face already stung red from the driving snow, it was camouflaged. "What was your first car?"

"A Volvo, also blue."

"That's a terrible name for a car."

Maura stopped breaking ice and looked at Jane, confused. "Why? It's Latin for 'I roll,' although a car doesn't exactly roll. Perhaps a better choice may have been Curro or Promoveo or even Percio, but I wouldn't say Volvo was terrible, just not optimal."

Jane paused mid-shovel and grinned at her oblivious friend. "Not because of its meaning, Maura. It sounds like something else."

"What?"

"Think, Maur, you're a doctor; something gynecological."

"I'm not a gynecologist, I'm a forensic pathologist…Oh! Vulva!" She clapped her red-mittened hands, thrilled that she had parsed out the clue.

"Right. Would you drive something called a Vagino or a Penio?"

Maura giggled, she loved word games. "How about a Labio convertible?"

"Exactly."

"A Scroto sedan? A Clitero coupe? A Frenulum Labiorum Pudendo wagon? A Glans Bartholino SUV? This is so much fun, Jane, I could go on forever."

"I'm sure you could. If I'm ever called upon to play a perverted word game, I want you on my team."

"Really? No one has ever wanted me on their team."

"I always do, Maur. You're always my first pick."

"Even in softball?"

Jane winced then laughed and wrapped a long arm around her friend's shoulder. "Even in softball, but only if you wear that skin-tight catsuit."

"Oh really?" Maura leered up at her and Jane's breath caught.

"Yeah, it's a real distraction to the other team." _And to me._

Maura stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on Jane's cold nose. "I'm going to miss you this week, Jane."

"Yeah, me too." She impulsively pulled the small red figure against her chest and smiled as she felt a pair of mittened hands circle her waist and hold tight.

Angela watched them from her kitchen window, the tall lean form of her daughter draped around the shorter woman. The pair clung to one another, seemingly oblivious to the snow swirling around them. She sighed once and straightened her spine, turning away from the window.

When the pair entered the guesthouse Angela was on the couch, shivering under two blankets.

"I think I'm coming down with the flu."

"No!" Jane rushed into the living room and knelt on the floor next to the couch. "You were fine this morning and even when I came in to pee, you were packing and singing. Maura, come here. Tell my mother she's fine."

Maura bent over the elder Rizzoli and pulling off one heavily lined mitten, lay a cool hand across her forehead. She frowned and removed the other mitten, running her fingers down the sides of Angela's neck, feeling for swollen glands. Angela moaned and chattered her teeth. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You're not presenting any of the classic symptoms of influenza. I think it's probably nerves. Are you uncomfortable on ships, Angela? I can prescribe some alprazolam which should take the edge off of your anxiety and both Bonine and Dramamine make patches that you can wear to alleviate motion sickness."

"No. I'm going to vomit. Maura, help me to the bathroom."

Jane stood and took her mother's arm. "I got her, Maur. Make yourself some tea and take off that wet jacket."

"No!" Angela howled again. "I need Maura; she's a doctor. Maura, help me to my bedroom."

Maura obliged, wrapping an arm around Angela's waist and guiding her toward the back of the house. Jane followed, carrying the blankets from the sofa. When the trio reached the bedroom door, Angela spun around. "Jane, you stay. I don't want you sick for the cruise." She snatched the blankets from Jane's hands and following Maura into the bedroom, closed the door and locked it behind her.

When Maura emerged half an hour later, Jane was pacing the small living room. She froze at the sound of the door opening. The doctor's eyes were red and swollen and her face blotchy.

"Oh God, is my Ma dying?"

Maura shook her head. "No. She will be fine. I promise."

"Then why are you crying?"

"We had a little talk and she showed me her essay. It was… beautiful, Jane."

"Yeah."

"She loves you."

"I know. So she'll be better tomorrow? We can still go?"

Maura opened her mouth and closed it again. She searched for the right combination of words that would walk the delicate line between truth and concealment. "She will be better, but she won't be going on the cruise. She asked me to go in her place."

"What? No. This is Ma's prize and I'm not going without her."

"I told her you would say that."

Angela's voice carried from the back of the house. "Jane Clementine, if you don't go on that vacation, I'm going to die just to spite you."

"Ma!" Jane stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.

With her friend safely out of the room, Maura sank onto the sofa, drawing a throw pillow up against her chest. The raised voices from the back bedroom were muffled and she couldn't understand what was being said, not that she was listening. Her mind was reeling from her conversation with Angela, from the older woman's blunt and heartfelt statement. "My daughter is in love with you, Maura. If you feel the same, you'd better go away with her and work this out. If not, go with her anyway and be a friend; help her find her way to accept herself."

She tossed aside the pillow and stood, making her way into the kitchen where she knew Angela kept a bottle of Absolut for making vodka sauce. Maura was not a vodka drinker, but she needed something a little bit stronger than wine right now. She poured herself a generous tumbler and swallowed it down, shuddering from the unaccustomed harshness as it burned down the back of her throat. She poured another smaller portion, added some orange juice from the fridge and took the glass back into the living room.

Jane trudged from the bedroom and dropped heavily onto the sofa beside her. "Goodbye tropical paradise, hello worst winter in Boston history." She groused.

"This is not the worst winter in Boston history. I told you yesterday, that was the winter of 1933–34, if your point of reference is lowest average temperature. If however, you base worst winter on greatest snowfall, 1995–96 tops the list with 107 inches; we've had fewer than 60 inches so far this season."

"Thank you Al Roker."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence, Maura sipping her screwdriver and Jane flexing her hands and scowling.

"Do your hands hurt?"

"They always hurt, Maura. You don't need to ask, but four hours in the cold shoveling snow…ah, never mind."

Maura reached across the distance and took the nearest hand in her own, prepared to massage the stiff tendons, but Jane pulled back. She stood and stomped into the kitchen. Maura heard her rooting around in the refrigerator for a beer and then in the drawer for a bottle opener. She returned a moment later with a half empty Labatt Blue. "I hate this shitty beer. It's Tommy's new favorite, so of course that trumps anything I like."

Maura tried again. She reached for Jane's free hand and took in into her lap, rubbing gently around the knuckles and slowly working inward toward the knotty scar tissue at the center of the palm.

After a while Jane pulled her hand back and silently offered the other.

"Thank you."

"Jane?

"Mmm?"

"Jane, look at me."

The detective put down her empty beer bottle on the coffee table and turned to face her friend. Maura looked very serious and her eyes were still red and glassy.

"Jane, do you…do you want me?"

"To go with me? Of course I do, but how can you possibly take a week off with like twelve hours notice?"

"What? Oh…the cruise. Yes. If you want me to go on the cruise, I'd love to accompany you. I am the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth. I answer to only the Governor, and I don't need to clear my vacation with him."

"Right. So…you'll come?"

"Yes." She jumped up, a little too quickly and the vodka rushed to her head. She stumbled and fell headfirst into Jane's lap.

"Whoa. Better stick to wine on the ship, Maur. You don't want to fall overboard."

Jane helped her to her feet and walked her to the door. "I'm going to sit with Ma for a while and then shoot home and pack. I'll pick you up in the morning."

* * *

><p>Jane looked down at a large pile of luggage pooled around her feet, her own battered duffle and Maura's six-piece set of matching Louis Vuitton bags. She had spent the night worrying over her mother, making her a pot of Lipton ring-o-noodle soup and keeping her hydrated with water and juice. Only this morning when Angela made it clear that she was not going to recover in time to make their ship did Jane carefully unpack her mother's suitcase, refolding brightly colored cotton blouses and capri pants before laying them neatly into a plastic storage bin marked "Summer" in Angela's cheerful cursive. When Tommy arrived to relieve her, she rushed across town to her own condo to haphazardly throw assorted clothing and toiletries into a bag. Whatever she forgot, she was sure Maura would have at least two of.<p>

"Let's go, Maura. The ship sails in half an hour and we still have to check all this shit. What could you possibly need for a week that takes up six bags?"

"Seven." The doctor gestured to the carry-on that she was pulling behind her.

"Maura, could you possibly move any slower? I'm carrying all the luggage and you can't keep up."

"It's icy."

"Of course it's icy. This is Boston in winter. You were born and raised here, why would you go out in January wearing those hooker boots?"

"These are Miu Miu, Jane, and they match perfectly with two different outfits that I packed; it won't be icy in the Caribbean."

"Well move your moo-moos."

The automatic doors to the Boston Cruise Terminal slid open, spilling overly heated air out into the afternoon chill. Growling with the exertion, Jane wrestled the bags across the threshold and deposited them with a waiting attendant. She stretched her sore back and cracked her neck, looking out the wall of glass at the anchored ship, a horizontal skyscraper, dwarfing every other vessel in port. She was impressed and looking forward, despite herself, to a week of relaxation. Hauling Maura's luggage a quarter of a mile from the parking garage would be the last bit of work she'd do for the next week.

Maura finally caught up, and they joined the long line waiting to go through customs.

"Are you sure you packed everything you'll need?"

"No."

The doctor frowned. "Do you at least have your passport so we can get off the ship in port?"

"Yes. That I have."

"Let me see it."

"I have it, Maura, relax…and if I don't it's too late to do anything about it."

Jane was cranky and she knew she should let it go, but she just couldn't. "Did you pack your new swimsuit?"

Jane grunted.

"Is that one grunt for yes, two for no?"

She grunted once more.

Maura sighed and fidgeted in her purse for her own travel documents; her passport and Angela's winner's release form and boarding pass that she had signed over to Maura the night before. A call to the cruise company had assured her that there would be no problem with the transfer; it seemed they were much more interested in Jane than her mother. She felt a firm hand at the small of her back as Jane wordlessly steered her along through the stanchions. The detective's touch told her she wasn't angry, probably just worried about her mother, and so Maura relaxed just a bit.

"Angela is fine, Jane. I promise." The fact that what she said was the literal truth did nothing to avert the itchy bumps she felt popping up at her neckline and the top of her chest. She was a colluder, an accomplice to Angela's deceit and it didn't sit well with her.

As promised, there was no problem with the transfer of tickets, and at the customs gate Jane surprised her by brandishing her passport from an inner pocket of her jacket with a flourish and a stuck out tongue.

"Detective Rizzoli, there's no need for you to wait on the boarding line. You can go immediately to the gate on your right with our gold and platinum guests." The ticket agent smiled and held Jane's hand a beat too long as she returned her ID and issued her a room card.

"C'mon Maura, we don't have to wait on that line." She gestured at the slow crawl of passengers, heavily bundled against the cold and loaded down with baggage as they snaked snail-like through a maze of ropes towards the gate. "Good thing. If I had to wait again, I'd probably shoot someone."

Maura looked alarmed. "Did you bring your gun?"

"Of course not, Jesus, Maur, I'm on vacation."

_Vacation_. Jane tested out the word. It sounded strange to her ears. She hadn't been on a real vacation since she and her brothers had taken her parents to Epcot for her mom's 50th birthday. _Could it be 10 years since I__'__ve had a vacation? Damn. _The ship's first stop was Cape Canaveral, Florida on Tuesday and she made a mental note to check how far that was from Orlando. If possible, she would love to take Maura to Disney. A goofy smile spread across her face as she pictured her friend in a pair of Mouseketeer ears, holding a bratwurst and beer stein in Epcot's Germany pavilion. _Yeah, this vacation might just be what the doctor ordered._

Maura's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Look Jane!"

She followed the M.E.'s gaze to a pair of life-size cardboard cut outs of herself, one in her Boston Homicide softball uniform and the other in her dress blues. A banner above declared, "Olivia welcomes a local hero, Out and Proud Homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli, our guest Cruise Director for the week." Dozens of women swarmed around the display, taking pictures with the twin Janes, most throwing a friendly arm around her cardboard shoulders, others lasciviously posing with a hand on her breast or over her crotch.

"What the fuck!" Jane's voice jumped up into the high soprano range.

She stood in stunned silence, her jaw slack and eyes wide. Her carry-on bag had slid off of her shoulder and dropped to the floor, spilling chapstick and keys and a Dove deodorant stick. Her passport and room card slipped from her hand and landed next to the overturned carry-on. Slowly she raised her hands to her face and covered her eyes. "This is not happening." She mumbled to herself.

"Jane, are you all right?" Maura's gentle hand on her biceps brought her back and she opened her eyes.

"No, Maura, I am not all right and I think that woman just licked my face."

Maura chuckled. "Imagine what she'll do when she meets the real thing."

"You find this amusing. It's not funny, Maura, not funny at all. I am going to kill my mother." She stormed across the cruise terminal toward the display, the doctor tottering along behind her in her 4-inch Miu Miu boots.

When she arrived at the spectacle, a beefy woman with a dyed orange crew-cut was grinding against softball Jane, while her friends laughed and recorded the dirty dancing on their phones. "Go Patsy, Go Patsy, Go Patsy!" They chanted.

Jane cleared her throat. "Excuse me, uh, Patsy…" She was at a loss for words. Really, what could she say? Stop humping my image?

"Oh snap. This is you. Damn, you're taller in real life."

"Um, yeah."

Patsy immediately released her licentious grip on softball Jane and transferred her hands and hips to the real woman. "C'mon Laverne, take our picture." She mugged with her cheek pressed close to Jane's neck. With her shoulder pinned at an awkward angle, Jane had no choice but to free one arm and sling it over the other woman's shoulder.

Once the camera shutter clicked, Patsy was gone and replaced by another woman, small and thin who wrapped her reedy arms about Jane's waist and laid her curly head on her chest. "I'm Judy." She nervously whispered.

"Uh, hello." Jane squeaked.

Judy was replaced by Mo and Mo by Katie and so on until Jane lost track of the names and faces, arms and warm bodies that briefly snugged themselves against her to snap a quick picture with the looming cruise ship as their backdrop. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Maura with her own iphone out, placidly snapping photos.

She felt a firm prod against her back and suddenly she was aloft, staring down at a crowd of cheering women in matching purple down jackets from the shoulders of a pair of sturdily built female jocks. She smiled sickly at her admirers while her bewildered eyes scanned the throng for Maura. She finally found her, rushing the horde with a security guard in tow. She closed her eyes. _This was a nightmare, one of many she had on a fairly regular basis involving Maura and her own unresolved feelings. _She would wake up in her own bed with Jo Friday snoring against her hip and she would dress and go on vacation with her mother. She took in a deep breathe and opened her eyes. No familiar bedroom, no sleeping Yorkie.

She was ultimately saved from what she imagined would be a thorough group groping by a small, friendly woman with an overbite, wearing a collared pink shirt emblazoned with the Olivia logo.

"Detective Rizzoli? Jane?"

"That's Detective Rizzoli…" Maura pointed at the cardboard Jane in her police uniform. "…and that's Jane." She gestured to softball Jane.

"You're a real comedian today, Maur."

The little woman addressed Maura, a puzzled look on her face. "You aren't Jane's mother. We were expecting Angela Rizzoli."

"Angela is suffering with an idiopathic malady that mimics the symptoms of the influenza virus." The doctor explained, pleased that she had avoided a direct lie.

Jane stepped forward. "But she signed over her ticket to Maura, not that it matters because we're not going to…"

Maura cut her off. "We're not going to inconvenience Olivia in any way. Whatever Angela agreed to, I'd be glad to do in her stead. I've signed all of the releases and I must say that I would love one of those life-size paper dolls. It would be a dream to have a doppelganger to try on my dresses." She pointed at the twin Jane cutouts.

Jane growled a warning. "Maura…"

The doctor felt Jane's hot breath in her ear. "Did you know this was a…a gay cruise?"

"Of course. Olivia specializes in distinctive vacations for discerning lesbians. I'm on their mailing list." She grinned brightly at the flummoxed detective.

"Wh…Why?" Jane wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.

"I'm a large contributor to the Human Rights Campaign Fund, The Astraea Lesbian Foundation for Justice, The Point Foundation. I was on the board of Marriage Now Massachusetts…." She counted out the various nonprofits on her fingers.

Jane stilled her counting with a firm grip on her wrist. "Maura, I can't do this."

"But you signed a release. You agreed to…"

"To take a few pictures."

"And to be a leader in various group activities onboard and in off-ship excursions. Didn't you read it before you signed?"

"Um, yeah. I skimmed it."

"It's a legal contract, Jane. We're going on this cruise, so let's make the best of it, shall we?"

She closed her eyes again, swallowing back hot tears of frustration and embarrassment. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped Maura's wrist. Snatches of Angela's essay came to her mind, and in light of the new information, they took on a very different meaning.

She opened her eyes and stared searchingly into Maura's calm hazel gaze. The doctor took her hand and squeezed once before lacing their fingers together. "You'll be fine, Jane. I won't leave your side."

Jane drew in a ragged breath and nodded. "I'd be the world's worst cruise director even under the best of circumstances." She muttered. "This is going to be a whale of a vacation."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hurry up, Jane, I have to pee." Maura shifted from foot to foot in front of the teal-green stateroom door while the detective fumbled in her carry-on and jacket pockets for her key card.

"One of those chicks must have nicked my key when they were feeling me up."

"I seriously doubt that." Maura took a step closer and reached a hand into the back pocket of Jane's jeans, coming up with the lavender plastic card. She pushed her friend aside and slid it into the door slot where it buzzed once and clicked. "I can't wait to see our cabin, an admiral suite with a balcony. We'll be baking in the very lap of luxury."

"Basking, Maura, and I intend to bask in that room for the entire cruise. You can bring me bread and water three times a day because I am not leaving that stateroom until we're safely back in Boston."

The doctor turned and shot her a caustic look before pushing open the door.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Jane peered over the parka-clad shoulder in front of her. "Not bad."

"Are you serious, Jane? It's incommodious and terrible." Maura stepped through the door, pulling her small carry-on behind her. "If this is an admiral suite, I'd hate to see the accommodations for ensigns or petty warrant officers. My closet is bigger than this cabin, and don't get me started on the colors; the same pink and teal you find in medical furnishings. It's very distressing."

"All right, Martha Stewart, thank you for that critique, but didn't you have to pee?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid to look in there."

Jane opened the door and stuck her head in. "It's fine, Maura. It's clean and has everything a bathroom should have."

Maura sighed and squeezed past her, closing the bathroom door with a firm snick. Jane crossed the small room in three strides, turning sideways to pass between the bed and the cabin wall, knocking her shoulder against a framed watercolor of a cruise ship. _How original._

There was a silver-wrapped bottle cooling in an ice bucket in the center of the mattress, resting on top of a sheaf of papers. She glanced at it and turned to the mini refrigerator set against the wall under an equally tiny television. _Please let it be filled with beer._ She opened the door and pushed aside energy drinks and sparkling water, cans of peanuts and miniature bottles of scotch, vodka, and rye. _Who the fuck drinks rye?_ In the very back were two cans of Heineken. She chugged the first standing in front of the open fridge and took the second onto the balcony.

Maura rested against the stainless steel vanity critically regarding the pale woman reflected in the mirror. In the unforgiving florescent light, her eyes were tired and dull. She had been up most of the night packing and when she had finally lain down, the weak sunlight was just beginning to turn the inky night into a gray winter morning. She hadn't slept; Angela's words played continuously in her head, and she weighed and judged them against a thousand interactions with Jane, but the data was inconclusive. She didn't like uncertainty, and now she faced a week of just that, a week of carefully walking the line between friend and… and what? She frowned into the mirror, and the fine lines around her eyes and mouth grew deeper.

_If you feel the same, you__'__d better go away with her and work this out. If not, go with her anyway and be a friend; help her find her way to accept herself._ She repeated Angela's words again like her own personal mantra. But what if Angela was mistaken and Jane did not love her? If Maura played it wrong, she could very well lose everything. She closed her eyes and imagined her safe place, in the lab with Susie Chang, an eye cocked over her microscope while her assistant read off test results from her laptop. Yoga always calmed her, but there was no room here for even the simplest pose. She closed her eyes and rested a finger against one nostril, practicing Nadi Sodhana, alternate nostril breathing. It dispelled her anxiety and centered her. The yogis believed the technique brought about balance between the two hemispheres of the brain. Maura needed balance now more than ever; she would be walking a tightrope with Jane this week.

Jane flinched at the gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder. She was leaning on the railing staring across the green bilge studded with dirty chunks of ice that lapped at the ship's white hull.

"Not much of a view."

"No." She raised her eyes to the multi-tiered concrete honeycomb where they had parked Maura's Prius an hour earlier.

"That will change once we start moving. We can sit here, if you like, and watch Boston disappear. The harbor islands should be lovely, blanketed with snow."

"It's too cold, Maura." She stepped back through the glass door, leaving the doctor alone on the balcony.

Maura sat in one of a pair of deck chairs flanking a table just large enough to hold two coffee cups. She bit her lip and worried her hands in her lap. It was frigid and it had begun to snow again. Icy pellets peppered the glass under the railing and Maura's view of the parking garage grew blurry and indistinct. She could hear Jane moving within the cabin; pacing, opening and closing the refrigerator, and finally turning on the television. An accented male voice described the correct way to put on a life vest and cautioned against smoking in the staterooms.

The door slid open and Jane's gravelly voice startled her. "Come inside, Maura. This isn't sun-bathing weather."

She entered the warm cabin, not realizing that she had been shivering in her deck chair without her parka and gloves. Jane pulled a velour blanket from the closet and wrapped it around Maura's shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms a few times before sitting on the edge of the bed and turning her attention back to the television. The safety video had played out and was now repeating the same life vest instructions.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?" Her eyes never left the television.

"I thought you knew."

"How would I know?"

Maura shrugged. "We could leave. Just walk off the ship and go home… or walk off the ship and drive to the airport. We have our passports; we could go anywhere you like, someplace warm; St. Barts, Hawaii, the Maldives. Just us."

Jane frowned. "What about my legal contract?"

"Laws are made to be broken."

"Said the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth to the detective." Jane snorted. "I don't think so, Maur."

The doctor sat on the bed, still hugging the blanket around her shoulders. Jane moved to wrap an arm around her, then thought better of it and pulled her hand back. Everything felt awkward and uncomfortable in this cramped and overheated room, too small for two grown adults who were not lovers to live for a week and impossible with the elephant they had brought into the cabin with them. They sat in silence, both feigning intense interest in the safety video.

"I'm not gay." Jane broke the silence, never taking her eyes from the television. What she had said was very nearly the truth; she was in love with Maura, only Maura. There wasn't another woman on this ship or in the world for that matter, who could turn her head. Although what she fantasized about doing with the doctor was decidedly not heterosexual, she did not have a gay identity; she was not a lesbian. Yet the thought of leaving the cabin make her stomach clench and her cheeks burn. She imagined that her love was apparent to the other 2,834 passengers onboard, that they could look at her and easily see what she struggled every day to keep hidden. It was getting harder each day to suppress her feelings for Maura; she didn't think she could do it when they were surrounded by happy, same-sex couples and sharing a bed in a room barely larger than the doctor's Prius.

She raised her empty beer can to her mouth then crushed it with a disgusted grunt, tossing it toward a tiny trash can next to the refrigerator. Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard what Maura had said. "What was that?"

"I said it was okay, Jane." Maura's voice was quiet and flat.

"That doesn't sound very convincing. I think you've been drinking the same Kool-Aid as my mother."

Maura pulled her brows together. This was an important conversation, but she had no idea where Kool-Aid fit into it. "I never drink sugary soft-drinks, Jane. You know that."

"It's a saying." Jane growled. "It means you and my mother are suffering from a group delusion like the people in Jonestown who committed suicide by drinking Kool-Aid laced with cyanide."

"Thank you, Jane. I will file that reference away for further research."

"You're welcome."

With the tension if not broken at least cracked, Maura reached out and pulled the chilled bottle out of the ice bucket. "Would you like a complementary glass of cava?"

"Isn't that champagne?"

"No. Champagne is only from the Champagne region of France, everything else is merely sparkling wine created in the Méthode Champenoise. This particular bottle is from Spain, hence it is cava. If it were from Italy it would be prosecco, though most prosecco is actually made using the Méthode Charmat, the difference being whether the secondary fermentation takes place in the bottle or in a stainless steel vat prior to bottling."

"Beep. I will file that away for future research. Beep." Jane spoke in a robotic monotone.

Maura smiled. Jane wasn't angry with her. She popped the cork and looked around in vain for stemware, finally entering the small bathroom and returning with the two glasses presumably left there for rinsing after brushing one's teeth.

"There are no flutes, so these will have to do."

Jane gasped and raised a hand to her chest. "I couldn't possibly drink caca without a flute, especially if it was made in the method Charmin."

"Charmat. Charmin is toilet tissue." She filled the glasses and passed one to Jane. "Do you want to make a toast or shall I?"

"Go for it, Maur."

The doctor cleared her throat and raised her tumbler. "Here's to the sixteen inches of snow predicted to fall in Boston this week which we will leave behind and the warm, sunny week stretching ahead. There's no one I'd rather spend my vacation with than you, Jane."

"Me too, Maur. Salute."

They clinked glasses and Maura sank back onto the bed, sipping delicately from her glass. Jane had shot back the entire contents of her own and reached for the bottle to refill it. She took a huge swallow from the second glass and leaned back against the headboard, her shoulder touching Maura's.

"What are those papers?"

Maura picked them up and began reading. "This is the daily itinerary for the ship. It's very informative. It seems there's an activity scheduled for every minute of every day. We could go to a Pilates class in half an hour; it's in the gym on Deck 12. Or a Beatles tribute show before dinner in the Grand Atrium, and this evening a recital with, oh Jane, Beata Frankenmeier is on board!"

"Oh goody. Who's that?"

"The Wagnerian soprano. She came out last year on the cover of _Opera News_. The classical world was shocked but I wasn't; I noted the way she lovingly cradled Sieglinde when she sang Brünnhilde in the last Met Ring Cycle and she held her spear like you hold your softball bat. I hope we get to spend some time with her."

"Oh, me too." Jane deadpanned.

Maura swatted at her and kept scanning. This felt almost normal. "There's a lecture at 7:15 in the library called 'Sisterhood is a Bad Habit' given by a former nun who left the convent to open a gay bar in New Hampshire." She laughed. "She named it 'Bar Nun', very clever."

"Cute. Are we going to that?"

Maura waggled her hand and kept reading. "There's an AA meeting at 7:30."

"Definitely not going to that."

"Oh, we can learn how to fold bath towels into festive animal shapes, also at 7:30 in the Whaling Room."

"The gay nun is sounding better and better, Maur."

The doctor stopped reading and snorted.

"What?"

"How about Big Gay Bingo with Detective Jane Rizzoli in the Nautical Lounge at 8:00?"

"No!"

"Yes, it's right here, Jane. You knew you'd be leading some group activities, and here's your first one. Bingo hardly seems onerous."

"I hate Bingo. I used to have to take my nonna every Saturday afternoon in the gym at St. Leonard's. The place reeked of cigarettes and boiled hot dogs. I wanted to run around outside with my friends, but I had to sit there for hours and watch half of her cards; if I missed a number, she'd whack me in the back of the head."

"Well, I for one have never played the game. It will be a new experience. I promise not to hit you in the head and I'm quite certain that the Nautical Lounge is a nonsmoking destination and not near any pots of boiling tubular meats, so it should smell fresh and clean."

"Why is it Gay Bingo? Can a game have a sexual orientation?"

"I don't know, but we will find out this evening."

Jane squatted in front of the fridge, once again pushing aside unwanted beverages in hope that she had overlooked a beer earlier. No such luck. She returned to the bed and flopped down next to Maura, sulking.

"I think they may let you call the numbers, Jane."

Jane made a popping sound with her finger in her mouth and twirled it in the air. "Ring-a-fuckin'-ding, Maura. I'm so excited, I could just shit."

"It will be fine, Jane, I promise. It will all be over by 8:45 because there's a karaoke contest scheduled to start in the same lounge at 9:00. Just 45 minutes and then we'll have the whole night to ourselves."

Jane rolled over and sighed. "I just hope no one lifts me up again. I did not like that at all."

Maura bit her lip thoughtfully. The idea had come to her as she lay in her own pristine bedroom that morning, worrying about everything from the contents of her suitcase to how she would feel if Jane were to hook into some other woman on the ship.

"I have a proposition for you." She blurted.

"Hmm?"

"I could be your girlfriend."

"What do you mean?"

"Outside of this cabin, Jane, I could be your girlfriend. It will keep all but the most ardent suitors at bay or…"

"Or what?"

"Or I could just throw you to the lesbians." She grinned into dark eyes, wide with alarm.

Jane smirked in return. "I see, this arrangement is just for my benefit because no one is going to hit on you."

"Oh, I'm sure they will, but that doesn't bother me."

Jane mentally finished the doctor's last statement with, _because I__'__m not a closet case like you._

The ship's horn sounded followed by the deep thrum of the massive diesel engines starting up. Jane lay with her eyes closed and further shaded by her arm resting across her forehead. Maura was next to her on the small bed. She could feel the heat of her body not only where they touched at the shoulder and hip, but all along her side and under her as if the doctor were seeping into the mattress and enveloping Jane. She could smell the subtle vanilla and ebony wood of Maura's perfume and hear her soft breathing just inches from her ear. If she turned her head just a bit, she knew their lips would meet. She groaned.

"Are you all right, Jane? Are you feeling seasick?"

Her eyes shot open and she sat up. "No. How can I be seasick if we're still in port?"

"We're not in port. We left nearly two hours ago. You've been sleeping."

"Oh. What have you been doing?"

"Just lying here. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you given any thought to my proposition?"

The detective sighed, using the extra seconds to compose her voice into the very embodiment of indifference. "Yeah, okay, if that's what you want."

There was a knock at the door and male voice called. "Luggage."

Maura blanched. "Where are we going to put my suitcases? There's barely room for us in here."

* * *

><p>The Nautical Lounge took up half of the top deck, a massive, open room with cabaret seating. Fog blue upholstered love seats curved around low circular tables in the front with rows of high tables and barstools behind, everything swirling gracefully in a seashell pattern around a central dais featuring a piano and microphone. The room was filled to capacity and beyond. Women crowded around a harried cruise-staffer waving cash and demanding bingo cards. Those who already made their purchases circled the room like raptors looking for an empty seat or at least a place to stand out of the press of bodies.<p>

Jane and Maura stood in the doorway, the doctor's hand resting lightly on the inside of Jane's elbow, casually running her fingers across the soft fabric of a red silk button down shirt. Despite her grousing, Jane had taken extra care with her appearance tonight and she was ravishing. Her tight black jeans and stacked boots accentuated her long, lithe figure and the crimson blouse set off her olive skin and espresso eyes. She'd taken time with her hair as well and it fell across her shoulders and spilled down her black in glossy, raven locks.

"You look dark and dangerous, Jane." Maura whispered in her ear. "I'm proud to be on your arm." At her friend's words, Jane stood a little taller, though she easily topped six feet in her boots.

"You look amazing too. Isn't that the dress you wore to my high school reunion?" She gestured to the aquamarine sheath that hugged the curvy doctor in all the right places.

"Yes! Good eye, Jane."

"You ready, Maur?"

"I am. It will be fine. I'm right here. Lean on me if you need to."

She strode through the room, easily navigating throngs of women in groups and pairs, her arm tight around Maura's waist. She imagined she was steering the doctor through a mob of onlookers at a crime scene, a task she had performed hundreds of times. She was no longer nervous. She was Detective Jane Rizzoli and her confidence showed. She walked with purpose, swaggered even, and people moved out of her way. In no time they reached the dais, where a cruise-staffer had set up a Bingo hopper and stack of prizes. Jane picked up the microphone and looked out at the sea of women, imagining them, as Maura had suggested, sitting across from her in stuffy interview room.

"Good evening."

The crowd shouted greetings back at her.

"I'm Jane and this is my…my…"

"Girlfriend." Maura stage whispered.

Jane's head was swimming, but she recovered quickly. "That's right, my girlfriend. She's so beautiful that sometimes I look at her, and I lose all track of what I'm saying."

The crowd clapped and cheered. "Kiss, kiss, kiss."

Jane bent over and kissed the doctor on her soft cheek.

"Awww." Three hundred women cooed in near unison.

"Okay, I got a head's up from your real cruise director that we are going to play three games tonight and there are three cool prizes up here for our winners. What do we have, Maur?"

"Keep your prizes. We want to win some cash." The heckler's voice came from the back and right of the room.

Jane scanned the area with her detective's eye. "You want to win cash? Go to the casino, it's on deck 6, don't let the door hit you on the ass when you leave. For the rest of us who are here to have fun…."

"Big gay fun." Maura added.

"That's right, Big Gay Fun! Maura, show us the prizes."

The crowd went crazy. They were not used to such a gruff and no-nonsense cruise director, and they loved it.

Maura held up the first prize, a lavender t-shirt emblazoned with the word "Dyke" and a black hand axe. Jane made a face. "Who wants to win this beauty?"

The crowd cheered, some whistling and screaming, "Me!" and "That shirt is mine!"

"Really?" Jane wrinkled her nose.

"It's a labrys, Jane." Maura took the microphone. "Scholars believe that the design originated in Knossos, in Crete, and that there is an etymological connection to the word 'labyrinth,' the dwelling place of the legendary half-man, half-bull minotaur. Whether or not you subscribe to that theory, and I personally do not, the labrys was definitely used in bull sacrifices throughout the Bronze Age…"

"Oh, we're only in the Bronze Age. C'mon Maura, skip a couple of thousand years." Jane rolled her eyes and Maura shot her an annoyed look. The crowd applauded and shouted their encouragement, some screaming, "Don't listen to her, Maura!" and others, "Tell her, Jane!" It seemed their bickering was a hit with the Big Gay Bingo set.

"Now I've lost my train of thought." Maura pouted.

"You were leaving the Bronze Age."

"Yes, but labrys-type axes were found in Neolithic caves in Anatolia, so the origin may have been much earlier."

"Now we're headed backwards." Jane covered her face with both hands.

"It's important, Jane, the area around the Black Sea in Eastern Anatolia is the part of the world most commonly associated with Amazons, and from that particular band of female warriors, we get our association of the labrys with the feminist movement, goddess worship, and ultimately lesbianism." She smiled and handed back the microphone.

"Okay, thank you for that informative lecture, Dr. Isles. We may only have time now for two games of Bingo."

The crowd laughed and Maura smirked. Jane pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. This was easier than she thought it would be and though she would never admit to it aloud, she was almost enjoying herself.

"Next prize, Maura."

The doctor held up a skimpy rainbow flag bikini. The women in the audience went wild, whistling and cat calling. One enormous woman in the front stood up and shouted. "What should I do with that if I win?"

"Sell it on Ebay." Someone yelled.

"Throw it overboard," came another voice from the back.

"I have a better idea…" Jane responded. "Find a cute girl and ask her back to your cabin to model it."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do." The woman agreed.

"Last but not least…Maura?"

"Ooooh, Jane, a trio of Beata Frankenmeier compact disks."

She passed them to the detective who read from the cases. "_Beata Frankenmeier sings Melissa Etheridge_, _Beata Frankenmeier sings k.d. Lang_, _Beata Frankenmeier sings Pet Shop Boys and Depeche Mode_." She quirked an eyebrow at the crowd and they granted her the warm laughter she had asked for.

"Are we ready?"

"Yes!" Everyone shouted.

"I'm ready." Maura sat at the piano with her card in front of her. "I hope I win the Beata Frankenmeier set."

"And I hope you win the bikini." Jane winked at the crowd.

* * *

><p>"They loved you, Jane. It seems you're a natural."<p>

"A natural lesbian?"

"A natural ringmaster."

Jane accepted the praise; she was good at getting others to laugh or to like her. It was a skill that she had honed during adolescence to compensate for being the tallest and most awkward in her class and it had served her well during countless hours in the interview room, where her ability to put her suspects at ease often meant they confided things to her, things that helped break her case.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes. I haven't eaten a thing since my oatmeal this morning, but I'm afraid all of the restaurants on board are already closed."

"Nah. Korsak's been on dozens of these things and he said you can eat 24/7. He would know."

"Vince has vacationed on lesbian cruise ships? I find that highly improbable."

Only the buffet was open after 9 p.m. and Maura couldn't mask her distress. "I don't like cafeteria dining; it's as unhygienic as it is unpalatable. Hundreds, possibly thousands of hands have touched the serving utensils and studies have found that 95% of people do not wash their hands properly after using the restroom. Ingestion of feces, even in microscopic amounts, can cause infection by giardiasis, cryptosporidiosis, and shigellosis, not to mention the intestinal distress that can come about from eating foods that have sat too long without proper refrigeration. That's why so many people get sick on cruise ships; salmonella, trichinosis, campylobacter infection, botulism… "

"Maura, enough." Jane interrupted.

"…lysteria, E. coli…"

"Maura, you're not going to dissuade me from eating. I'm starving. You could put a pile of human feces on the table next to me, and I'd still shovel in whatever was on my plate." Jane softened her tone when she saw the clearly distraught look on her friend's face. "Listen, I'm sure you can find something to eat; maybe a hermetically sealed container of yogurt or a banana."

They arrived at the buffet entrance and were met by a friendly young man with a spray bottle in his hands. "Washy-washy!" He greeted them brightly and gestured for them to stretch out their hands, spraying them with a generous dose of liquid.

Maura sniffed at her palm. "Isopropyl alcohol."

"See, feces all gone, now let's eat."

"The bacteria are still winning, Jane."

But the detective wasn't listening. "Oh, Maura, I am in hog heaven." Jane pointed to a cardboard cutout of a grinning pig with a red checkered napkin tied around his neck. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth, dripping saliva. "Ribs!"

"That's repulsive and…cannibalistic."

"I don't care." She rushed toward the rib station and picked up a plate, returned it to the stack and chose a large platter in its place.

Maura pressed in close to her, her warm breathe on Jane's neck made the detective shudder. "Jane, there's Beata Frankenmeier."

"Where?" She turned in the direction of Maura's gaze.

"No, don't look. She's at a table…eating."

"Well, this is a restaurant. What should she be doing, tap-dancing?"

Maura let out a sigh of annoyance.

"Go sit down at the table next to your hero and I'll bring us some food. Don't worry, Jane Rizzoli is a champion buffet eater. With my long arms I can reach all the way back to get the good stuff that most people can't reach and I know how to avoid the crusty, picked-over crap on top."

Jane arrived at their table, balancing three heaping platters of food and holding a plastic container of cocktail sauce between her teeth. She dropped everything in front of Maura and pulled two bottles of beer from her jean pockets.

"Ta dah! All you can eat shrimp and ribs, tempura fried mushrooms and shumai dumplings, bread pudding for dessert."

Maura frowned. "Where's my banana and hermetically sealed yogurt?"

"Just eat, Maura. You're on vacation."

A loud, sonorous voice chimed in from the next table. "She's right. Coco always says that when you're lying on your deathbed, you'll regret the things you didn't do, not what you did."

"That's right." Her companion agreed.

The doctor turned to the woman, thrilled that Beata Frankemeier had initiated conversation. She had spent the past five minutes, while Jane loaded their plates, inventing and rejecting conversation starters in her mind, not wanting to appear fawning or star struck by her idol. Only when the other woman had spoken first did she feel confident enough to reply.

"Aren't you Beata Frankenmeier?"

"I am. And this is my life partner, Coco."

Jane regarded the couple over her dripping platter of ribs. A more ill-matched pair could not possibly exist. Beata was a huge woman, tall and broad-shouldered, with a bust that spilled out of the top of her sequenced gown and onto the table like an avalanche rolling down a mountain. Her orange-red hair was teased and sprayed straight up from her head, adding several inches to what Jane estimated was already a six-foot frame. Coco was a slight, wiry Asian woman of indeterminate age. She wore a full-dress tuxedo with spats and a gold watch chain. A pair of tinted glasses in round frames covered the top half of her face and she chewed on an unlit cheroot jutting from the corner of her mouth. Despite her unconventional attire, Coco exuded an aura of cool, like a zoot-suiter or a jazz cat. She caught Jane's eye and nodded.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Maura Isles and this is my…my life partner, Jane Rizzoli."

"Oh the detective!" Beata gushed. "Coco took my picture next to your effigy in the cruise terminal."

"That's right." Coco husked, her voice was so low and raw that Jane's own raspy growl sounded positively girlish in comparison.

"I saw your last Brünnhilde at the Met and it was a revelation."

"Thank you. Coco says the new Met production places the Ring in a vacuum where time and space no longer exist, elevating the tale out of the realm of Eurocentric mythology and onto a plane of universal truth."

"That's right." Coco croaked.

"I myself miss the papier-mâché dragon."

Maura swallowed a fried mushroom and nodded. "I saw the old production half a dozen times, twice with you in the lead. I'm sorry we missed your recital tonight. Jane was hosting Bingo in the Nautical Lounge."

"No worries, I'm singing every day this week. Tomorrow it's reggae on the Pool Deck, Tuesday it's a Led Zeppelin Tribute in the Tahiti Room, and Wednesday Beata sings the blues in the Starburst Theatre. I don't remember what comes after, but I'm sure Coco does."

"Wow, such a varied repertoire."

"Yes. Coco says singing an eclectic mixture of music keeps my voice supple."

"That's right." Coco wheezed.

"We actually met when I was taking a break from opera. I was doing a cabaret show in New Orleans, Coco's hometown. She came to see me every night for a week and sat at the first table. I could feel her eyes burning into me, electrifying me as I performed. By the third night I was singing just for her." She reached out and took her partner's hand. "By the end of the week, we were living together. Isn't that right, baby?"

"Mmm. That's right." Coco agreed.

"Where did you two meet?"

"At work." Jane grunted, a rib in her mouth.

"Are you also a detective, Maura?"

"No, I'm a forensic pathologist, um, a medical examiner. Jane and I work together to solve homicides in Boston."

"Was it love at first sight?"

"No." Maura struggled to answer truthfully. "We became best friends and then…" She smiled and gestured to Jane.

"You slowly realized you both wanted more. How wonderful to find love with your best friend. What a beautiful couple you are. Isn't that right, Coco?"

"That's right."

Jane blushed furiously and buried her face in the rapidly emptying platter of ribs.

"Jane, slow down." Maura swiped at her arm. "You are beginning to resemble that unfortunate piggy above the rib station."

"I'm done." Jane pushed away the platter and stood. "I'm just going to pop over to the bar and pick up something for a nightcap."

They wished the pair a good night and returned, hand in hand, to their own stateroom, Maura cradling a small bottle of Grand Marnier against her chest. Jane stopped in front of their stateroom and reluctantly dropped the doctor's hand to search for her key.

"One day down, only six more to go."

"Don't think that way, Jane. This is a vacation to be enjoyed, not a sentence to be suffered through, and I think you actually had a good time tonight."

"Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be now that I'm over the initial shock." She pulled her key card from the back pocket of her jeans and swiped it through the reader with a flourish.

"After that dinner, I think we'd better go to the gym first thing tomorrow morning."

"Not me, I'm getting enough of a workout moving your suitcases between the shower and the balcony every time we want to use one or the other."

Jane ducked immediately into the bathroom, returning a moment later wearing Maura's heavy framed glasses. "Hey Maur, who am I?" She composed her face into an exaggerated frown and stuck a tampon in the corner of her mouth. "That's right." She croaked in a whispery rasp.

"Coco!" She answered immediately. "Oh Jane, that's cruel, but I can't help myself from laughing."

"Speaking of cruel, let's call my mother. Do you want to fuck with her a little bit? We can tell her that they are putting us off the ship at the next port because we aren't gay enough."

"I don't think we should…"

But Jane was already dialing. "Ma?"

"Janie? Is everything all right? How are my girls? Are you mad?"

When she heard her mother's voice, sad but hopeful, all the snarky comments she had prepared fled her mind. "Um, I just wanted to check on you. You feeling okay?"

Maura patted her shoulder and squeezed past her. She shrugged on her parka and slipped onto the tiny balcony with a glass of cognac. She could hear only Jane's side of the conversation through the tempered glass, but it made her smile.

"Yeah, it's fine, Ma. We played Bingo… no it was okay because I was calling the numbers, not looking for them on those stupid little cards…. Everyone seems nice…oh, and Maura got to meet her idol, Doctor Frankenstein."


	4. Chapter 4

Maura woke stiff and disoriented, wedged into a valley in the very center of the mattress. She looked around for the familiar landmarks of her comfortable bedroom; the framed Klimt print on the wall next to her closet; the abstract metal sculpture Constance had gifted her on her 35th birthday, which served as a repository for extra blankets; her neat stack of journals on the bedside table. She felt a spike of fear when she turned her head expecting to see her plush reading chair and saw instead the endless grey sea through the glass doors of the balcony, and then she remembered Jane and the cruise.

Jane was sleeping at the farthest edge of bed, long legs pulled up until her knees were almost touching her belly, her arms tightly wrapped around her own torso. She was taking up less than half the space allotted to her had the bed been split neatly down the middle. It was a strange sight; Jane was usually such a disorderly sleeper, sprawling across the mattress haphazardly, taking up her entire half and a good deal of Maura's. The doctor was used to waking with a knee against the small of her back, an arm slung across her waist or even an entire leg over her hips. If Jane were cold, she'd think nothing of warming her icy feet against Maura's calves or sticking her chilled nose into Maura's armpit, greedy for body heat. This compact Jane-ball was strikingly out of place. Maura filed it away for future contemplation. She stood and squeezed around to the other side of the bed, leaning over the gently snoring detective. She listened intently for half a minute, counting breaths and watching for subtle movement behind her friend's closed lids. _Yes, Jane was truly sleeping; she may be able to fake regular respiration, but not the rapid eye movements of stage 4 sleep_. Maura reached out and gave her a firm shove, rolling her onto her back and away from the edge of the mattress; Jane really had been in danger of falling onto the floor.

Maura stretched as best she could in the tight space and poked her head out onto the veranda. It was warmer today; she would still need a light sweater outside, but she could pack away her parka and Jane's down coat for the rest of the trip. She checked her watch and mentally calculated their position to be somewhere off the coast of southern Virginia. She would check the navigation channel later to see how close she was. She longed for a shower, but it would be impossible to move all of the luggage onto the balcony without waking Jane. She freshened up, tying her hair back in a loose bun, dressed, and with one more look at the detective who was lying on her back snoring regularly with her mouth agape, she left the cabin.

The sound of the stateroom door closing roused Jane and she rolled onto her side, groping blindly for her cellphone. She held the display up to her face and cracked an eye: 9:08.

"Maura?" No answer.

She lolled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She'd lain awake for hours the previous night, replaying the events of the day and relishing the feel of Maura's hand in hers, her loving but chaste kisses, the sweet heat of her breath on Jane's neck and ear as she leaned in to whisper encouragement.

Maura had fallen asleep immediately; no doubt the half bottle of cognac she drank on the balcony aided her journey. At some point she'd had a disturbing dream; she shuddered and groaned and rolled over, reaching for Jane. Jane allowed herself to be held, content to stroke the soft forearm wrapped around her waist and whisper hushed words of comfort until her friend's breathing grew regular, but it never did. Maura had groaned again and pressed herself closer into Jane's back. Her entire body was hot and damp. Jane feared she might be ill until the doctor slid a thigh between her own and squeezed, moaning against Jane's neck. This wasn't illness, but something entirely different. Jane froze, but Maura didn't; her thigh drove harder between Jane's legs and her pelvis pushed up against Jane's ass. It was over quickly, Maura's breath hitched and she sighed softly, her warm body slackening and falling away from Jane.

After, Jane had lain in the dark, frustrated and ashamed, pulling herself as far away from the doctor as was possible, not wanting any part of their bodies to graze. Maura, she knew, was dreaming of some man in the same manner that Jane dreamed of Maura. Many nights she would wake with her sex still throbbing and the sheets tangled around her legs, a faint memory of her dream fading into the night.

Last night all Jane felt was fear and shame, but now she rested her head on Maura's vacated pillow and inhaled. The clean citrus scent of the doctor's shampoo mingled with her signature perfume. She gave herself over to a few minutes of fantasy. _They were on the dais in the Nautical Lounge and the crowd was demanding a kiss. Only this time Jane wrapped her arms around the petite doctor and dipped her from the waist. She leaned over and kissed her full and wet on the mouth, allowing her tongue to just brush a plump lower lip. Fantasy Maura clung to her, grinding her hips against Jane__'__s thigh, capturing Jane__'__s tongue and sucking hard. Back in the dark cabin Fantasy Maura grasped at her in the night, not in her sleep, but fully awake. Jane turns to her and they__…_

The lock clicked and the stateroom door swung open. Jane pulled her hand out of her pajama pants and feigned sleep.

"Jane, it's after 10:00. If you miss breakfast, I'll never hear the end of it."

Jane opened one eye and fake yawned, stretching and cracking her neck. Maura was standing over her in yoga pants and a very tight t-shirt, a paper cup of coffee in each hand.

"Where have you been?"

She sat on the edge of the bed and passed Jane a coffee. "I went to the Medical Unit on Deck Four to introduce myself to the ship's doctor."

"Why? Is there a lesbian serial killer on board, a Jackie the Ripper? Maybe we could turn the Nautical Lounge into a makeshift morgue."

"It's a professional courtesy. I let her know that I am a physician and here if she needs me. If this ship is hit with an epidemic of Norovirus, she may be happy for another pair of hands."

"No way, Maur. If this ship is hit with Norovirus, we are barricading ourselves in this room and living off of the contents of the mini-fridge and the Altoids in your purse."

"That would violate my Hippocratic Oath."

"I didn't take a Hippopotamus Oath, so I'll stay in here, eating Altoids, and you can clean up poop and vomit on Deck 4."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." She hesitated a moment. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh…yeah. Why?"

"No reason."

"Did you?" Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Like a baby."

Maura smiled and stood. "Up, Jane. We have a busy day ahead of us."

Jane groaned. "What am I doing today? Leading a Big Gay Conga Line? Playing Lesbian Limbo on the Lido Deck?"

"Nice alliteration."

"Thank you."

"There's a triathlon poolside at 2:00. You're in it."

"That's not so bad. I'm a decent swimmer and I can run. I don't know about biking on a ship; maybe we'll be riding around the entire deck, that's gotta be half a mile."

"A little less than a quarter, five laps is a mile."

"Good. Biking's not my strongest sport, but I should kick ass in the other two." She leapt from the bed and stretched fully, her hands palming the low ceiling. "I'm going to win so I hope the prizes are better than those lame-ass ones I gave out at Bingo." She stretched again and her stomach growled loudly. "Go sit on the balcony, Maur, I'm going in for a Code 10-100."

Fifteen minutes later she joined the M.E. on the balcony and dropped into her chair, automatically reaching for her now cold cup of coffee.

"Success?"

"And how. You know it's funny, Maur, the first time I went away with you…"

"That was the long weekend at my parent's house on the Cape." Maura interrupted, smiling at the memory.

"Yeah, I was so nervous about making a good impression. I wanted to seem more refined so that you'd want to be my friend." She smiled shyly, looking up at the doctor from under long dark lashes. "I was afraid that if you saw the real me, you'd run in the opposite direction."

"Oh, Jane, that would never happen."

"I didn't even want you to know that I went to the bathroom, so I took a bottle of Immodium with me and drank it over the weekend. I didn't poop once in four days."

"Jane! That's terrible. What sort of impression would you have made if your frankly idiotic behavior had caused an obstruction and ruptured your jejunum or illeum? The worst case scenario could have been peritonitis and death. Never, ever do that again."

"I wouldn't, Maur, but it made sense at the time. I was trying to be a lady, like you. I somehow equated that with not shitting, and I was very proud to have fooled you over the weekend."

Maura rolled her eyes. "Everyone shits, Jane, even the Queen of England, and I am a doctor; you did not have me fooled."

"I think I did, a little bit. Anyway, I'm empty now and ready to eat my own weight in pancakes and bacon."

"Not a good idea, Jane. You're participating in an athletic competition this afternoon, a meal consisting of empty calories and fat is a poor choice. If you want to optimize your energy reserves, you should breakfast on grains with high fiber content and natural sugars, such as those found in fresh fruits. Might I suggest steel cut oats with berries?"

"You can suggest whatever you want. I'm eating pancakes with butter and syrup and half a pig's worth of bacon."

"Fine, but we're going to the gym after. I want you on the treadmill for half an hour minimum and then some light weights and a yoga class."

"Thank you, Jack LaLanne."

Maura frowned. "Isn't that the French chef from PBS?"

* * *

><p>Maura waved to Beata Frankenmeier who was standing in a gazebo overlooking the pool, going over sheet music with a trio of men in full Rastafarian garb. She herself wore a flowing caftan in green, yellow and red and her orangey hair poked out from under a turban. Coco sat at a nearby table in a knit Rasta beanie and Bob Marley T-shirt, her ever-present cheroot clamped between her teeth.<p>

The diva waved back and called across the deck, her clarion voice easily carrying above the din of a hundred conversations. "Maura, Jane, so good to see you. Will you be staying for my show? Coco says reggae music is the legitimate sound of the Americas and that my performance of the genre serves to break the patriarchal hegemony of white colonialism on indigenous culture and art."

They couldn't hear Coco's response, but could see her nodding her head. "That's right." Jane whispered in Maura's ear, eliciting a sharp poke to her ribcage.

"Jane, will you take a picture with me and my girl?" A pair of young women, both heavily tattooed and wearing matching lip rings, approached holding out a camera.

"Sure." She dropped Maura's hand and wrapped an arm around each woman. Maura snapped the photo and returned the camera.

"We'll be cheering for you in the triathlon. Show her, Brittney." The smaller of the pair reached into one of a dozen cargo pockets in her shorts and pulled out a folded white cloth. She shook it out and held it stretched across her chest. 'Team Jane" it read in bright rainbow-colored letters.

The detective grinned, touched and nearly speechless. She had an urge to hug the two young strangers, but refrained. "That's really nice. Thank you."

"We made it in arts and crafts this morning in the Polynesian Parlor. We're not the only ones. You'll have lots of supporters, Jane. Some of the banners are really awesome."

"Wow. Well, I'm definitely ready for this. Maura gave me quite a workout this morning, so I'm loose and limber. I won't let you down."

Brittney and her girlfriend looked at each other and blushed. "Go Maura!"

The doctor smiled and inclined her head.

The pool deck was rapidly filling with people, women of all ages and shapes, dressed in shorts and T-shirts, sundresses and tanks crowded the tables on either side of the pool; acres of winter-pale skin on display. Every chaise lounge was occupied, some with two or more women, sitting side by side or lying in one another's arms. Jane shaded her eyes and looked past the gazebo to three huge barbecue grills, stoked and smoking, and beyond them to the bleacher seats that climbed all the way to the horseshoe shaped deck above. A sea of women gazed back with more clambering up from the pool deck or down from the sun deck in search of a seat. Many waved rainbow flags and she counted fifteen "Team Jane" banners. She felt like Tom Brady entering Gillette Stadium and was glad she wore her BPD softball jersey with her name and the number 12 across the back, and she was glad she had packed her plain, one-piece racing suit and not just the skimpy string bikini that Maura had made her buy. She imagined what a fool she'd look doing laps in that thing.

She strutted to the gazebo like a hero, swinging Maura's hand. Before mounting the steps she escorted the doctor to Coco's table, pulled out her chair and kissed her on the temple. She gave Coco a quick fist bump and bounded up to stage, taking the remaining seat between her two rivals. She glanced quickly to the left and the right. Neither woman was as fit as she was, one was very short and the other heavy. Jane was disappointed; she loved to win, but if this was the competition, her victory would be worthless. She might as well race Korsak around the pool deck; it would probably be more of a challenge.

Beata Frankenmeier appeared beside them. She held a microphone far from her mouth and spoke in a smooth Jamaican accent. Jane was impressed, if the woman ever decided to give up singing, she could have a second career as a voiceover actress. "Hello all you boo-ta-full people. We off da sunny shores of Car-o-line-a and going down, down, down, to da crystal blue wa-taz of da Caribbean Sea. We going to be jammin' together to da sweet sounds of calypso, reggae, rocksteady and ska and we all gonna watch da big dykes battle for who be the Queen of all Lesbians. You ready, boo-ta-full people?"

The crowd cheered, many screaming for Jane.

"Okay, I gonna sing one nice jam and den I give you over to super-star tennis legend Millie-Joyce Ming. She gonna judge da Triathlon."

Steel drums pinged and an electric bass thrummed a steady rhythm in 4/4 time. Beata Frankenmeier swayed her generous hips and sang, "Matilda, Matilda, Matilda, she take me money and run Venezuela." Jane watched Maura, perfectly relaxed and sipping a tropical drink the size of a fishbowl next to Coco who nodded her head and chewed her cigar in time with her girlfriend's singing.

The song ended and Beata Frankenmeier curtsied deeply, a graceful move for such a large woman. "Put you hands to-ged-da for our celebrity host, da one, da only Millie-Joyce Ming."

Millie-Joyce rushed the stage wearing tennis whites and a rainbow cape, she moved with the grace and ease of a woman half her age. The crowd gave her a standing ovation. Once everyone had settled down, she took the microphone from Beata and strode around the perimeter of the gazebo. "Good afternoon, ladies and ladies! What a crowd; I haven't seen this many lesbians in one place since Wimbledon."

Everyone laughed. Jane looked down at the doctor and saw she was laughing and clapping as well.

"No, really, it's a wonderful thing we can all be here together and feel safe to have fun within our community. There are nearly 3,000 of us aboard this ship, and if I'm any judge of numbers, I think most of us are right here on deck 12."

Jane craned her neck around. It was true, there wasn't an inch of free space anyplace. Where the hell were they going to run?

"This is my fourteenth Olivia cruise." Millie-Joyce continued. "And I can say with certainty that the Lesbian Triathlon is always the most popular event. For those of you who've never sailed with us, I'm going to quickly go over the rules. This is not like any triathlon you've ever seen before; our three contestants will not be competing to prove their athletic prowess…"

Jane's skin prickled. _Oh no, this can__'__t be good._

"Because this is not any ordinary triathlon, this is the…" She held up the microphone and 2,800 women screamed "Lesbian Triathlon."

"That's right. Our contestants will be competing for bragging rights as 'Queen of All Lesbians.' The three carefully designed and scientifically weighted competitions herein will determine without a doubt who is the best at lesbian sex."

The cheers and applause lasted a solid five minutes, screaming, chanting, foot stomping and whistling filled the air.

Jane closed her eyes. _Oh god, please take me now. Let a giant tsunami wash over the ship and drag me to the bottom of the ocean. _

She opened her eyes and looked past the swell of grinning women to the calmly rippling Atlantic; there would be no giant tsunami. There was no god. Jane was alone in her mortification. She turned to the doctor, who was smiling sheepishly over the rim of her half-empty glass. "It's okay, Jane." She mouthed.

Millie-Joyce was still speaking, but Jane had missed a good part of her speech. Maybe that was for the best. She wasn't sure she want to know exactly what was in store for her.

"You nominated, you voted, and here are your contestants. Contestant #1 is 46 years old, a nurse by trade and hails from Providence, Rhode Island. She's a champion softball player and loves her girlfriend Mo and her 1968 Mustang Coupe. Let's welcome Patsy Irving!"

A group of women in matching purple softball uniforms went wild. Jane squinted until she could read the lettering across their chests, "Providence Pussy Chasers," it said. She turned and regarded the woman on her right. _Patsy__…__Patsy__…_ She remembered Patsy from the cruise terminal. _This was Patsy the poster-humper. _Jane was going to obliterate her.

"Our next contestant is 40 years old and a native of Boston where she serves and protects as an out and proud member of the city's police force. She is the youngest woman ever to be promoted to the homicide squad and was twice wounded in the line of duty. She too is an avid softball player and is devoted to her life partner, Maura, and their pets Jo Friday and Bass. Give it up for Detective Jane Rizzoli."

At the sound of her name, Jane stood. Still in shock, she numbly waved to the crowd, most of whom were chanting her name and wolf whistling. Team Jane banners were everywhere, decorated with rainbows and handcuffs, labryses and guns, police shields and smiley faces. Jane was clearly the crowd favorite. She caught Maura's eye and the doctor blew her a kiss.

"Last but not least, our third and final contestant is also a decorated police officer from Chilmark, Mass. She's 37 years old and is single." At the word _single_ a thousand women began to scream and ululate. Millie-Joyce gave them a moment and then continued. "She's also a softball player. Do I see a theme here, ladies? She loves to fish and take long walks on the beach near her home on Martha's Vineyard. Put your hands together for Officer Carla 'Big Carl' Timmons!"

Jane glanced to her left and saw nothing until she looked down. The woman was tiny, barely five feet. She met Jane's gaze and winked. Jane would obliterate her too.

"Let the games begin!" Millie-Joyce screamed into the microphone and her voice echoed across the deck. "Beata would you do the honors?"

"Come dis way, lovelies." She chirped, still in character. She gestured to a waist-high counter on which sat three large bowls. With a firm push, she had the three contestants line up behind the counter with Jane in the middle. "What kind of ice cream you be liking to lick on?"

"Chocolate." Patsy stated.

"Jane-girl, what tickle your fancy in da ice cream department?"

"Um, vanilla." _Maura smells like vanilla._

"Good girl. And Big Carl, what you like?"

"I like it all, Beata, surprise me."

"Dat's what I'm talking about." She pulled the tiny woman in for a hug, her face was instantly swallowed in the depths of the famous Frankenmeier cleavage.

Millie-Joyce joined them. She held three bandanas in her hand. Jane felt Beata Frankenmeier behind her and her vision blacked out as the big woman passed the cloth over her eyes and expertly tied it behind her head.

Millie-Joyce spoke again. "Ladies, imagine a dark bedroom. The woman of your dreams lies warm and naked, splayed across your mattress. You can't see her, but you can smell her arousal, and now you must please her and lick up every drop she has to offer. Hands behind your backs, on the count of three, find your lady and lick her clean. The first one with a clean… ahem… bowl is the winner."

Jane groaned inwardly. This was a nightmare like no other. She couldn't have imagined this sort of mortification if she tried. Yet the thought of Maura, naked and wanting made her stomach clench and her groin throb. She shook the thought from her head. She was a born competitor and she wanted to win, even this weird and embarrassing spectacle. Dulling her edge with thoughts of sex was a sure-fire path to last place. _It__'__s only ice cream_, she thought instead, _and Jane Rizzoli is a champion ice cream eater._

Millie-Joyce reached the count of three and Jane plunged her face into her bowl. She gulped at the mound in the center first, swallowing the greater part of her portion without tasting it, then she ran her tongue flatly around the perimeter in ever diminishing circles until there was nothing left. She stood, ice cream dripping from her nose and chin. "Done!" She shouted, pulling off her bandanna. Her bowl was clean. She looked to the left and right, both of her competitors still had their snouts buried in ice cream.

"Millie-Joyce. I tink we have a winner."

"We do, Beata. It seems that Detective Jane Rizzoli has licked her competition in this contest."

"Yes!" Jane pumped her fist. The crowd loved it and told her so. She looked to Maura. The doctor had a vague, far-away look on her face and she was unconsciously running her tongue across her lips. Jane's stomach began to clench again.

A cruise staffer appeared with a stack of warm towels. "Clean your faces, ladies, and limber up your tongues, we're about to begin our second competition."

Patsy and Big Carl took the instructions literally and were contorting their faces as they lolled, waggled and gyrated their tongues. Jane stood between them, arms crossed and eyes rolled to the heavens. _What could be next? No, she was sure she couldn__'__t even imagine. They wouldn__'__t actually make her do things to Maura, would they? No._

"Jane? Jane?" Millie-Joyce poked her arm. "Are you ready?"

"Um, yeah."

"You were daydreaming." She turned to the crowd. "What do you thing she was thinking about, ladies?"

"Pussy!" Was the overwhelming response, but Jane also heard "Maura" and "tits." She snuck a glance at Maura's table and the doctor gazed at her with sympathy in her eyes. "Sorry, Jane." she mouthed helplessly.

Beata Frankenmeier led them back to the counter while Millie-Joyce continued to rev up the crowd. A small, white bowl was placed in from of each woman. Jane exhaled in relief; this would be another food-based contest. She wouldn't be putting her mouth on a live woman. _What could it be? Hot dogs? No, definitely not hot dogs. Maybe the opposite of hot dogs. Buns? Whatever it was, Jane Rizzoli would do it better than the two mopes on either side of her. _She growled and shook her messy mane of black locks.

"Intimidation tactic?" Patsy asked her.

"Maybe."

Millie-Joyce approached. "You've licked her clean, but now lets see how gentle and dexterous you can be with your tongues. You will have two minutes to tie a cherry stem into a knot, using only your mouth. Anyone who attempts to use their hands will be disqualified. You may use your fingers only to put the cherry into your mouth and pull out the finished knot."

Jane smiled. She had spent the better part of one summer teaching herself exactly this trick after seeing it on an episode of _Fantasy Island_. Once she had mastered it, she taught Frankie and Tommy. Starting in June when Bing cherries appeared on the shelves, Angela would buy a pound every week and keep them in a big ceramic bowl in the fridge. The Rizzoli kids would grab a handful and sit together on the front steps, eating the sweet fruit, spitting out the pits and tying the stems into knots. It was a happy childhood memory. She cracked her shoulders and neck and popped a cherry into her mouth.

The technique came back immediately, despite not having done this in probably 25 years. She pitted the cherry, swallowing the flesh and spitting the seed into the bowl, bent the stem in half with her tongue and bit down to cross it into a loop. Holding the stem between her teeth she used her tongue to poke one end through the loop. Done, she pulled the knot from her mouth and grabbed for another cherry.

"Time's up!" Beata Frankenmeier declared.

Jane looked into her bowl; she had racked up 6 knots and had another complete between her teeth. Patsy had none and Carl had one, though it more closely resembled a pretzel than anything else. Millie-Joyce carefully inspected their bowls, her blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses.

"Maura, you are a lucky woman." She announced. "Our winner is once again…Detective Jane Rizzoli!"

Jane raised her arms above her head did a double fist pump. It felt good to win, even this. She caught Maura's eye and winked. "You're lucky, Maur." She mouthed.

Millie-Joyce was on her in a flash. "Is that your girlfriend, Jane?"

"Er…Yeah."

"Did you just tell her you loved her?"

"Um, no. I told her she was lucky."

"Stand up, Maura."

The doctor stood. She was breathtaking in a copper sundress and strappy gold sandals, the colors bringing out the golden highlights in her hair and the palest amber in her eyes.

"Jane, I would say you are the lucky one. Am I right, ladies?"

Thousands of voices screamed for her and the doctor flushed deeply and sat down, hiding her face in her huge drink. Jane smirked; _it served her right_. It's not easy to be the center of attention.

Millie-Joyce was back at center stage, the reggae band was performing a calypso-tinged version of the Rocky theme and the elderly tennis legend jumped and jabbed, kicked and shook her white-skirted booty. The music stopped suddenly and she spun around, facing her three contestants. "Who likes doughnuts?"

"I do." Patsy rubbed her soft belly.

"Me, too." Carla piped in.

"Detective Rizzoli?"

Jane scowled. This had to be a trick question. In a contest where a bowl of ice cream stood in for a wet pussy, there was no way that a doughnut was just a doughnut. It didn't really matter how she answered, she knew that in the next five minutes she'd be poking her tongue through the hole of a doughnut or spinning it around her fingers for the amusement of nearly three thousand lesbians.

"Jane?"

"I'm a cop. Of course I like doughnuts. I freakin' love them."

"Glad to hear it." Millie-Joyce beamed. "Beata, bring on the doughnuts."

The diva appeared carrying a platter piled high with the delicious treats; only the very top of her turban was visible over the immense stack. There were doughnuts of every variety: chocolate glazed and sugar dusted, rainbow sprinkled and cinnamon coated, blueberry battered, studded with fat, purple fruit and banana nut with crumbled almonds spilling onto the coconut flakes of its neighbor, each a perfect, mouth-watering ring. Jane was stunned; she would have a hard time carrying that platter, but Beata Frankenmeier showed no strain, in fact she circled the small stage, hoisting the desserts above her head for all to see. She stopped in front of the contestants and lowered the platter onto the floor of the gazebo.

Jane reached for a vanilla-glazed beauty with red, white and blue sprinkles, but Beata slapped her hand away. "No, no, Jane-girl. You got to earn the doughnuts."

"That's right." Coco agreed from the closest table.

"Who's ready for our final contest?"

"Bring it!" The crowed roared. "Clean sweep, Jane!"

Millie-Joyce skipped across the stage, swinging her microphone like a tennis racket. She was bursting with energy and grinning. Someone passed her an enormous rainbow flag and she leaped from the gazebo and sprinted to the far end of the pool, waving it above her head. She dropped it into the water at the deep end and it floated on the surface, rippling gently. She bounded onto the diving board and howled. The crowd howled back.

"Patsy! Go get your woman!"

"Me?" Patsy touched a hand to her own chest.

"Yes, get your girlfriend and bring her to me."

The chubby redhead shrugged and left the stage, making her way slowly through the press of bodies toward her purple-suited softball team.

"Jane! Bring me that gorgeous woman that you love."

Maura looked stricken as Jane stomped down the gazebo stairs and stood in front of her table, hand extended. She closed her eyes and imagined she was merely going up to the homicide squad room to drop off a report and chat with the detectives, then she stood and walked calmly toward Millie-Joyce. Only Jane knew the truth when she took the M.E.'s sweaty and trembling hand into her own.

Patsy and Mo were already standing to Millie-Joyce's right. Jane and Maura stood beside them.

"Big Carl! Choose yourself a partner. Who wants to be Carla's girl for the day?"

A thousand hands shot into the air. Big Carl looked like a child given free rein in a toy store. She paced the gazebo, gaping and smiling, stunned at her good fortune. A bikini top flew out of the crowd and landed at her feet, quickly followed by a g-string bottom. Beata Frankenmeier picked both up and shook her head in mock disgust. "Now who gone and did dis? Dat is just nasty."

"Today, Carla. The barbecue fires are burning down and we all want some jerk chicken for lunch. Let's finish this." Millie-Joyce called from across the pool. The little police officer left the stage and took the hand of a pretty blond woman who had been pushed to the front by her eager friends. She wrapped an arm around her waist and gallantly escorted her across the pool deck.

"Okay. Contestants, back to the stage. You need to put on some gear for our grand finale. Girlfriends, sit." She waved her arm and three deck chairs appeared, carried by uniformed cruise staff. Maura sat in the center, hands neatly folded in her lap, ankles crossed.

Back on stage, Beata was dancing, not ungracefully to a primal rhythm set by the Rastafarian bassist. She held something in her hands, but Jane couldn't make out what it was, maybe some cords or rope. She spun once, her voluminous caftan floating around her and faced the contestants. "Ladies, choose your weapons." She gestured to the counter where the cherry stem bowls had been removed and replaced by a pink treasure chest, its lid ajar.

Jane strode across the stage and gazed into the box, hands on her hips. _Oh no. What am I going to do with this and how does it involve Maura. Poor Maura. Let her just be an observer._ Jane was mortified enough for the both of them. She would have done anything to spare the gentle doctor.

Dildos of every size, shape and color lay within, some extremely realistic, crafted with prominent veins and lifelike scrotal sacs, others smooth and utilitarian.

"Ha Ha!" Patsy laughed. "I have this one at home." She pulled out a thick, black phallus with a prominent head.

Carl was more thoughtful, picking through the box, feeling and rejecting half a dozen toys before selecting a flesh colored member that curved up at the tip.

Jane reached one slim hand into the chest, feeling as if she were handling live rattlesnakes. She closed her eyes and pulled out the first dildo her palm rested on. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion as she eyed the hot pink silicone, heavily ridged from tip to base.

"Jane, get a move on." Millie-Joyce called. "You're picking out a cock, not an engagement ring."

Carl and Patsy were already snapping their harnesses closed and adjusting the phalluses riding low on their abdomens. Beata held out a black and purple belt to Jane. Here in the middle of the Atlantic, surrounded by thousands of frenzied onlookers, she had no choice but take it. She turned it over and over in her hands, unsure how to wear it.

"You need some help, Jane-girl?"

"Yeah…I'm…uh, just nervous."

"Step here, move your hip, okay." In fifteen seconds the big diva had worked her magic and the harness was snug over Jane's slim hips, the erect cock pointing dead ahead. Strangely enough, Jane's first thought was of her mother. How she would look floating in the dark blue water, growing smaller as the ship left her in its wake, after Jane strangled her and threw her overboard, of course.

"JANE JANE JANE JANE JANE JAAAAAANE!" The crowd had taken up her name and shouted it louder and louder, stamping their feet and clapping their hands. She took her place between Patsy and Carla behind the thigh-high platter of assorted doughnuts. She looked to her left and her right. Her second thought was accompanied by a smirk. _I have the biggest dick._

"Ladies!" Millie-Joyce boomed. "Start your engines. You have five minutes to penetrate the doughnut of your choice and take it to your ladylove. She will remove it from your cock…with her mouth! You may then race back and hook another. Whoever's girlfriend has the most doughnuts on her plate when I call time is the winner. Any questions?"

Jane looked across the pool at the doctor who was sitting rigidly with a paper plate in her lap. Suddenly she stood and raised her hand.

"Yes, Maura?"

Millie-Jean stood close, too close in Jane's opinion and shared the microphone.

"I don't eat doughnuts." Maura's voice sounded calm and cool. "They are high in both mono and poly-saturated fats and refined sugar as well as complex carbohydrates. Might it be possible for Jane to penetrate a healthier food, perhaps a pineapple ring?"

Millie-Jean roared, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the smaller woman and the entire crowd took up the chant, "Maura Maura Maura!"

"In all seriousness, Maura," the tennis legend wiped a tear from under her glasses. "You don't need to eat the doughnut, just remove it with your mouth and drop it onto your plate. Do you have any words of encouragement for your girlfriend?"

"Yes. Jane, please avoid the powdered sugar. This is an original Alexander McQueen." She gestured to her form-fitting sundress.

The Rasta drummer played a thump rat-a-tat on his kit and Millie-Joyce counted down from three. Jane did a deep-knee bend and stood on her toes, trying to adjust her body to the unaccustomed appendage. _You__'__ve worn a utility belt your entire career,_ _Rizzoli, you strap a gun and cuffs to yourself every day. This is no different. It__'__s a tool; use it._

Beata trilled, "GO!" in a high D-flat and they were off.

Jane scanned the doughnut pile for an easy angle, the most promising was a powdered sugar near the top. Maura banned that one, so she knocked it away with the tip of her cock and went for the chocolate glazed beneath it. She missed the hole on her first approach. _Fuck. _Patsy and Carl had both snagged one easily and were heading across the deck toward their partners. This was one contest in which her towering height was not an advantage; she had to aim by sight and then squat and lunge with her hips to capture her prize; it was awkward. If she were a foot shorter, like Carl, she could just walk over and stick it in. She was sweating and a stubborn lock of hair kept falling into her eyes. _God damn shit. _She tried again, pushing hard into the pile until she felt a soft resistance. She pressed past it and withdrew, a apple crumb cruller impaled on her shaft. She bucked her hips once to ensure her prize wasn't in danger of falling off and then leaped from the stage and sprinted the length of the deck in long loping strides. She would have to make up time by being the fastest runner.

Maura was waiting in her chair, looking amused, her dimples deep and a half-smile tickling the corners of her mouth. "Good job, Jane."

"Grrr. Just…take it, Maur."

Maura leaned in, her lips parting. Jane shut her eyes, she had imagined a variation of this scene many times. The pressure of the doctor's mouth drove the base of the cock against Jane's pubis and she almost came out of her skin. Her abdomen clenched and a hot burst of liquid shot into her bathing suit. _Oh god._

"Jane! Go get another. We're losing." Maura poked her in the side.

She opened her eyes and met her friend's gaze, lost for a moment in a dizzying kaleidoscope of olive and grey, gold and sea glass.

"Jane." The voice was softer now, tender.

Patsy and Carl were back with their second haul. She reached down and wiped a drop of frosting from Maura's lip, turned and raced back to the gazebo.

"Beata, can I double dip?"

"I don't know, Jane-girl. Millie, can da girl do a double?"

"Absolutely, she can do a triple if she's able."

Jane squatted again and shoved hard into the pile, snagging a coconut cream on the first try. She duck walked around the platter, aimed for a chocolate and came away with a blueberry. She tried again for the chocolate and got it. _Yes! Glad I picked a long dick._

She crossed the deck in no time and the doctor expertly took the three rings between her teeth, dropping them onto the plate. "Go, Jane." She swatted the detective's ass.

Her competitors were wasting time at the platter, trying in vain to duplicate Jane's feat. She squatted again and thrust deep into the platter, coming away with a powdered sugar doughnut firmly attached to her cock. She tried to shake it loose, but it held firm. _Fuck it._ _I__'__ll buy her a new dress._

She raced across the deck to the doctor who greeted her with a pout and a frown. "Powdered sugar?"

"It couldn't be helped."

Maura sighed and lowered her head to Jane's crotch. Jane impulsively reached out and tangled her fingers in the bronze and flax tresses that spilled across her abdomen. Maura hesitated a moment and then slid her arms around her friend's narrow waist, pulling her closer and driving the base harder into Jane's mound. The detective groaned. Millie-Joyce began counting down from five. At one, Maura pulled back, a sugar coated doughnut between her teeth. She gracefully dropped it on the plate.

"Jane! Jane! Jane!" The cheering was deafening.

Millie-Joyce's voice carried across the deck. "Jane Rizzoli, you are the undisputed Queen of All Lesbians."

"Yes!" Jane threw her arms in the air and roared her victory into the salty ocean breeze.

* * *

><p>Maura finished rubbing lotion on her legs and swung them under the covers. She smelled like an angel food cake, and Jane's mouth began to water. She swallowed hard, but Maura didn't seem to notice. She was studying the excursion guide for their disembarkation in Florida, her glasses riding low on the tip of her nose. Jane fluffed her pillow and dropped heavily onto it.<p>

"I hope you sleep better tonight, Jane."

"I slept fine."

"You were curled into a ball at the very precipice of the mattress. One would think you were sharing a bed with a hungry grizzly bear and not a timid forensic pathologist."

Jane snorted. "You're adorable when you try to make a joke."

"Was it funny?" She sounded hopeful.

"Not bad. The truth is you were the opposite of timid last night."

"Me? I'm the most placid of sleepers. You, on the other hand, are very much a grizzly bear. You crowd me and kick with your ice cube feet and snore and curse in your sleep."

"Well you weren't placid last night."

The doctor looked thoughtful. "I wonder if I was having one of my anxiety dreams, perhaps brought about by the unfamiliar surroundings and the movement of the ship. They were bothersome enough at one point of my life that I went to a sleep clinic for analysis. I used to dream that the body on my autopsy table was a living patient who was dangerously ill. I had to perform a complex medical procedure, sometimes an esophagectomy with colonic interposition, or a quadruple bypass, on the worst nights it was a whipple, using only the instruments in the morgue. When they filmed me sleeping at the clinic my hands and arms were moving as if I were doing the actual surgery. Perhaps I thought you were my patient." She chuckled. "Be careful, Jane, you may wake up without a gallbladder."

Jane grunted, unwilling to confirm or contradict her friend's notion.

"If it happens again, please wake me. You were very close to falling on the floor."

_If it happens again, I__'__m going to roll over and enjoy it, _she thought, but she said, "Right, Maur."

Maura took off her glasses and switched off the bedside lamp. She chewed on her lip in the dark, debating whether to do it and then impulsively leaned over and kissed her friend on the corner of her mouth.

"Good night, Jane."

"Good night."

"Jane?"

"Mmm?"

"There's an excursion tomorrow to the Kennedy Space Center. I would very much like to see the exhibit on the engineering behind the space shuttle Atlantis."

"Nope, we're going to Disney, Epcot to be exact."

"Why do you get to decide?"

Jane grinned into her pillow. "Because I am Queen of all Lesbians."

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading, boo-ta-full people. I'm not sure if I can top the Lesbian Triathlon, but I'll try. I'm open to suggestions.


	5. Chapter 5

"What are you wearing?" Jane stared at her friend, who had emerged from the bathroom in a lipstick-red bandage dress and lucite heels, so steep that she could look the detective in the eye.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes." Jane's reply was automatic as her eyes were drawn downward following the plunging v-neckline to where it ended an inch above Maura's navel. "But I think you have it on backwards."

The doctor looked down, her eyebrows drawn together in thought. "No. It's zippered in the back. I was going to ask you to help, but I managed on my own."

"Then you can manage to take it off and lose the shoes, too."

"But Jane, this is an Herve Léger. I bought it last season, but I didn't think anyone would notice."

"I did, and I can't be seen with you in last season's dress, so just take it off, Maura."

"But, I never get to wear this; it's inappropriate for work and…"

"And it's completely inappropriate for walking around Epcot. Your feet will be bleeding and your ass will be sweating; you'll be absolutely miserable, and then I will be absolutely miserable."

"My ass does not sweat."

"It will in Florida. I guarantee that."

The doctor pouted, but kicked off her shoes and began rooting through the small armoire. "I have my outfits carefully planned for each day, and now I will have to shift everything."

"You can wear it tonight. Beata's singing Led Zeppelin in the Porthole Lounge. That dress is meant for _A Whole Lotta Love_ and _Custard Pie_."

"You've lost me, Jane."

"Song titles, Maur. Never mind, just put on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers."

The doctor wrinkled her nose.

"Trust me. You'll thank me later."

"Fine. Unzip me."

Jane crossed the small distance between them and fumbled under Maura's hair for the tiny pink zipper. She finally grasped it and pulled, revealing a bare canvas of creamy white skin.

"Maura!" She gasped. "You're not wearing a bra."

"Of course not. It would ruin the lines of the dress."

"But…you're like an F, shouldn't you be hanging all over the place?"

The doctor shot her a sour look over her shoulder. "I am not an F and I'm wearing _un s__outien gorge adh__é__sif_."

Jane heard a ripping sound, and Maura pressed two crescent-shaped pieces of flesh-colored tape into her hand before reentering the bathroom and firmly closing the door.

* * *

><p>Beata Frankenmeier's orange hair immediately caught Maura's attention as she and Jane entered the Grand Gallery. The diva was taking pictures with fans in front of a three-story statue of the god Neptune. Only his scaled merman tail was visible on this level, while guests eating in the steak house above were treated to a view of his navel and nipples. Diners above them in Sushi City were menaced by his frowning visage. <em>A truly unfortunate use of statuary, <em>the doctor mused. Jane had used the excuse of being creeped out by the scowling sea god to avoid a sushi dinner, dragging Maura next door to Mama's Italian Kitchen, where she spent the entire meal complaining that it wasn't as good as Angela's.

"Maura! Jane!" Beata beamed at them across a sea of shorts-clad passengers, many sporting purple Olivia belly bags. "Where are our Queen and her Consort going today?"

"I wanted to tour the engineering exhibit at Kennedy Space Center, but Jane is forcing me to go to Epcot." Maura pouted, looked down at the khaki shorts she'd borrowed from Jane and a pair of well-worn gym shoes. She frowned and pouted some more.

"Hey everyone, they're going to Epcot." The words echoed through the gallery, repeated by a hundred voices, texted to friends still lingering in their cabins and to the cruise director behind the bustling excursion desk, who suddenly found herself exchanging passes to Universal Studios and Seaworld, airboating through the Everglades and pontooning on Banana River, all for passes to Epcot.

"We're going to Epcot as well." Beata confided. "They've erected a life-size effigy of me as Senta in _Der fliegende Holl__ä__nder_. I am standing on the decking of the ghost ship, and once an hour I plunge to my death in the lagoon in front of the Norwegian Pavilion, or at least my plastic doppelgänger does. We've yet to see it."

"That sounds…" Maura didn't get to finish her thought as a exuberant crowd of women descended upon them, tearing her hand from Jane's.

"Epcot! Epcot! Epcot!" They shouted. "Queen Jane's going to Epcot!"

"Yo! Yo! Shut the fuck up." A beefy Latina had mounted Neptune's bronze tail fin and she gestured angrily to the chattering women around her whose numbers and volume increased by the minute. "Yo. We all going to Epcot. Let's show them who we are. My girl Sylvie made T-shirts and she selling them in front of the Duty Free, $5 only, c'mon yo, you spend more than that on some homochino at Starfucks. Look, this one of them." She spread her crossed arms to reveal a cartoon depiction of Daphne performing oral sex on Velma. "She got some others too; Wilma and Betty from the Flintstones, Judy Jetson and that robot maid, the Powerpuff Girls and some other shit too."

Maura had found her friend, the task made easy since Jane's head, in a BPD baseball cap, stuck out six inches above the crowd. She squeezed herself through the throng until she could whisper in Jane's ear. "Would you like a T-shirt? I know you're a big fan of Scooby Doo."

"Hell no. This is turning into a real shit show, Maur. I wanted it to be just us, eating our way across the nations of the world for six hours; no cheering, gyrating cruisers. Maybe we should hide until they leave and then we can take a cab to Disney."

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, then the pleasant voice of the cruise director sounded from the above head speakers. "You're certainly free to wear whatever you like, but for those of you heading to Epcot, and that seems to be almost everyone, Olivia has prepared a complimentary package featuring a 'Jane's Amazon Army' T-shirt and a matching purple fanny bag with interlocking female symbols. Your cruise staff will be distributing them aboard the buses."

The crowd parted and the same friendly cruise director made her way to the doctor and detective. "Jane, I'm so sorry. I know we promised you a free day in Florida, but the people have spoken." She smiled and shrugged helplessly.

"Fine."

"You're such a good sport." She passed Jane a mechanical bullhorn and whispered. "Start moving them down the gangway toward the buses. It's going to be a bitch to get this crowd seated and on their way."

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maura rubbed her upper arm softly. She exhaled and raised the bullhorn to her mouth. "Lesbians! This is your queen…" The crowd roared, cutting off any further instructions.

Jane counted to ten and raised the bullhorn again. "Simmer down. I have been instructed to get all of your glorious gay asses onto the buses. Good thing I spent the first two years after the Academy directing traffic in downtown Boston."

The shouting diminished to chattering and then to near silence as Jane strode through the crowd, making eye contact with everyone she encountered. "Okay. If you have a partner, find her now and take her hand. If you're single, take the hand of the closest woman; you don't have to fall in love and marry her, you just have to escort her off the ship. Now, you have 15 seconds to pair off and then we start marching. Maura, count."

"In English?"

"No, in Swahili." Jane rolled her eyes.

"Moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, sita…" The doctor began.

"It was a joke, Maura. Count in English."

In no time the cruisers were walking, two abreast, in an orderly fashion down the gangway toward the fleet of tour buses.

The detective brought up the rear, counting off like a drill instructor as Maura circulated among the women, handing out complimentary packages and ensuring each bus was filled to capacity before boarding began on the next. In ten minutes it was all over, they waved the penultimate bus good-bye, with instructions that the occupants should disembark and stand in line alongside their vehicle to await Jane. They prepared to board the final bus, where Beata, Coco, and Millie-Joyce Ming grinned and waved from windows near the front and Big Carl leaned on a bumper canoodling with her new blonde girlfriend. A lone woman in a mechanical wheelchair rounded the corner and headed past them in the direction of the ship.

"Hey, aren't you coming?"

"It's not handicap accessible. I guess I will have the ship all to myself."

"Jane, do something." Maura murmured against her neck.

"Bullshit. You are going to Epcot. What's your name?"

"Lucy."

"Lucy, where's your posse?"

"I…I came alone. I was hoping to meet someone."

"You will. Today you're going to meet Goofy and Mickey Mouse and…who else, Maur?"

"I don't know, Jane. My parents never took me to Disney. Could it be Hansel and Gretel? The Wizard of Oz?"

"No. It doesn't matter." She scanned the area for a likely deputy. "Carl! Get your tongue out of that girl's mouth and get over here."

"Yes, my queen." The little woman was instantly at her side. "I came in second, you know. What does that make me?"

"A loser."

"Nah, I think it makes me the Prince of all Lesbians."

"Whatever, Prince Charming. I'm going to carry Lucy onto the bus, and you get her chair."

"Okay."

Jane looked down into nervous blue eyes. "You trust me, Lu?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"All right. Put your arms around my neck and hold tight. I got you." She slid an arm under thin legs and easily lifted the woman, cradling her against her chest.

"There's an empty seat by me." Millie-Joyce waved and Jane gently deposited Lucy next to the legendary athlete.

"Carl! What the fuck, man?"

"This chair is heavy, Jane. I can't budge it."

"It weighs over two hundred pounds." Lucy sighed. "I guess I'm going back on the boat."

"Nonsense." Beata Frankenmeier bounded off the bus and hefted the chair with as much ease as if it were a styrofoam boulder on an opera stage.

Maura leaned over the seat when the big diva had returned. "Very impressive, Beata. It must be those mighty Teutonic genes."

The diva laughed. "Definitely not. Don't tell anyone, but I was born Bonnie Lifshitz in Brooklyn."

"My lips are sealed."

The doctor sat back down and pulled Jane's hand into her lap. "I'm proud of you, Jane."

The detective snorted and looked around the bus. Women were quietly talking in groups of three and four, someone had pulled out a deck of cards and a rousing game of "Fuck Your Neighbor" was being played in the rear, others snuggled or kissed, hunched down in their seats for privacy.

"This reminds me of basketball camp when I was a teenager." She announced to no one in particular.

"You were an athlete, Jane?" Millie-Joyce asked.

"Yeah. Basketball, volleyball, and track. I was all state champion in the 1500 meter."

"I bet you had every girl in your high school chasing after you." A voice called from behind them. "Did you slow down so they could catch you?"

"Nah." Jane answered truthfully. "No one caught me until Maura."

"Awww." Everyone cooed together.

"So, does that mean that Maura is your first female lover?"

"Um…yeah."

"Awww." Again.

"Maura, is Jane your first?" Someone asked.

"No."

Jane blanched, sneaking a look at the woman quietly sitting at her side. _No hives_. Maura stared out the window at the dull, flat greenery that bordered the highway and continued to rub gently at Jane's scarred palms with her soft, warm hands.

* * *

><p>Jane was the last off of the bus. She gingerly picked her way down the four steps, carrying Lucy in her arms. She placed the woman in her chair and stood, stretching her tight back. Just as they had been ordered, an army of women stood in neat lines near their parked buses waiting for their queen. Jane squinted against the bright Florida sun, and the crowd was reduced to a purple blur as the majority had donned "Jane's Amazon Army" shirts on the bus. She squinted further and snickered as she caught sight of a Jetson's Tee; Judy was squatting above the gun-metal face of Rosie the Robot. <em>Sick. Funny, but sick. I should buy one of those for Frost.<em>

She raised the bullhorn to her lips. "Listen up, lesbians. We are going to do Epcot the Rizzoli way. That means no farting around the souvenir shops, no stopping to take pictures with the Disney princesses or to have a caricature sketched by some douche in a beret. We're on a mission. We have six hours to eat our way across the world."

The quiet and obedient crowd went mad, lolling their tongues suggestively and cat calling.

"Ladies! Get your minds out of the toilet. We're eating food, not…well not anything else. We have 11 countries to get through and that gives us just… uh, Maura, how much time per country?"

"Just over 32 minutes, Jane." It was the first she had spoken since dropping her bombshell on the bus.

"Thank you, babe." The endearment was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She caught Maura's dimple pop out of the corner of her eye.

"Here's the plan: You go in, get your food, and move out of the way. In 25 minutes we move on to the next country and before anyone asks, we are not doing that lame Ellen DeGeneres ride. I don't care how gay she is."

Everyone laughed.

"Lucy, you're riding shotgun. If these lollygaggers waddle too slowly, run them over."

"Got it, my queen."

"Let's roll. Er… no offense, Lucy."

"None taken."

"Wait!" A woman broke formation to Jane's left. _It was that young chick with the tattoos from the pool deck__…__.Cindy, Mindy, Lindsey, Brittney. Yeah, Brittney._

"Jane, we made something for you in crafts last night… and for Maura. We all hope you will wear it today. It kinda goes with the Amazon Army theme." She held out two bright purple T-shirts. "This one's yours."

Jane shook it out and froze her face in a wide smile as she cringed inwardly. In big white letters it read "Queen of All Lesbians" in the front and simply "Dyke" across the back.

"Sweet." She deadpanned.

"Put it on, Jane." Maura nudged her with an elbow.

"Let's see yours first."

The doctor crisply snapped open the fabric and smiled as she read the writing on the front.

"What's it say, Maur?"

"It says 'lesbian' in a dozen languages. _Lesbica_, that's Italian. _Lesbienne_: French, _Lezbiyan_: Turkish, I think. λεσβία: Greek, naturally. _Leszbikus_: Hungarian, ਲੈਸਬੀਅਨ: Punjabi, лесбиянка: Russian…"

"We get the point, Maura."

"We had the ship's crew help with translation. They are literally from all over the world." Brittney explained. "We know how smart you are, Maura. We all hoped you would like this."

"I do. I love it. Thank you." She pulled the younger woman toward her for a quick hug and slipped the shirt over her head.

Jane groaned when she saw it also said "Dyke" across the back.

"Put your shirt on, Jane." Maura smiled at her, but her eyes were unreadable.

There was no getting out of it, so she took off her baseball cap and pulled her Property of Boston PD Athletic Department shirt over her head.

"Holy shit, look at those abs!" The wolf whistles and cheers did not stop until she had the new shirt fully on. She smirked and tossed her old tee into the crowd.

"And we're off. First stop is Canada. I suggest a cup of cheddar cheese soup and an icy cold bottle of Molson to wash it down."

The group garnered some curious looks as they made their way through the park. For the most part people avoided them; a crowd that large in matching shirts could be anything from a cult to a gang to a cruise ship full of lesbians. A skinny woman holding the hand of an equally skinny boy, muttered, "Lesbians" under her breath as she squeezed past Maura on her way out of the Canadian Pavilion.

"Yes." The doctor agreed. "So glad you can read." She gestured to her own chest.

The crowd of women whistled their approval, some taking up the chant, "Go Maura! Go Maura! Go Maura!"

Jane picked up the bullhorn from where it was resting on Lucy's lap. "How was your soup, ladies?"

The responses ranged from, "Good" to "Tastes like my Aunt Tillie's underpants."

"Okay. Maura, give me the official time, please…uh, lovebug."

The doctor smiled up at her, this time her good humor reached her eyes and they sparkled a pale grey-green in the bright sunlight. "We spent over 40 minutes in Canada, Jane."

"Shit! We're behind schedule. We're cutting back on the UK, ladies. Grab yourself a warm beer at the Rose and Crown and then onto France. France is not to be missed."

Maura slipped her arm through Jane's and leaned in close. "Why is it not to be missed? Is there an exhibit on loan from the Louvre? Is there a recreation of the _Jardin des Tuileries_?"

"No. There's quiche lorraine and crepes. Seriously, Maur, if I could only eat at one place in Epcot, it would be France…no, maybe Germany…no, Mexico."

The doctor leaned in closer and planted a quick kiss on Jane's cheek. "I would love to show you the real thing, Jane. Paris is my favorite city. There's no one on earth I'd rather be there with than you. The sunlight, especially in springtime is…"

A rock skittered across the cobblestoned street to their right, just missing Maura's calf by an inch. Jane spun and automatically reached for her nonexistent gun, pushing the doctor behind her.

"Who the fuck did that? Show yourself, you fucking coward."

No one came forward, but a group of young men in fraternity garb stood snickering under the awning of a Tudor-style tea shop. Jane strode up to them. "You have something to say?"

"Yeah." A big beefy teenager stepped forward. "Why you gotta throw it in people's faces? People come here with their families, kids and babies."

"Why do you have to throw rocks, you piece of shit?" Jane went right up against him, though he had four inches and a hundred pounds on her. He didn't back down.

"Why don't you go back where you came from?"

"Yeah, where's that?" Jane husked.

"The island of Lesbos."

"Oh, how fucking clever you are. You're just a walking, talking, farting douchebag."

The other cruisers heard the commotion and were lining up behind Jane, murmuring and glancing nervously around.

"You're just a skinny, skanky old dyke." The kid answered. "Hey, sweetheart…" He nodded at Maura. "If you get tired of licking that nasty thing, I got something you might like better." He grabbed his crotch and squeezed it obscenely.

Jane cocked a fist and aimed it squarely at the kid's pug nose, but before it landed she was pulled back clean off of her feet. Beata Frankenmeier had her in a bear hug and was carrying her backwards towards the protective wall of women. "It's not worth it, Jane. You're a decorated police officer; you could lose your job for hitting some punk kid."

"Did you hear what he said to Maura?"

"Of course, we all did. It's not anything we haven't heard before."

"Shit. I want to hit someone so badly. Um, Beata, could you put me down now?"

"Yes, of course."

Big Carl strode out of the crowd, swinging her girlfriend's hand. "As your deputy and Prince of All Lesbians, might I make a suggestion?"

"Yeah, what is it, Carl?"

"We should have a love-in."

"The fuck is that?"

The idea spread quickly through the cruisers and murmurs of "Fuck yeah, a love in" and "Fight hate with love" reached Jane's ears.

"We can continue with our eating tour, but at every pavilion, we stop and kiss for a minute before moving on. It's nonviolent, but still badass." Carl grinned up at her.

"Gandhi would approve." Maura was suddenly by her side. "Are you okay…babe?"

"Yeah. I'm good." She draped a protective arm around the petite doctor and nuzzled the top of her head. "Lucy, where's my bullhorn?"

She ran a hand through her sweaty hair and spoke into the megaphone. "Lesbians! It's time to show our haters a little love. Grab the one you love and give her a kiss. If you're single, follow the advice of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young: If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."

The purple-clad crowd paired off and locked lips, some chastely resting their lips against a near stranger's in political solidarity, other's clashing tongues and drinking deeply from their partner's mouth. Coco kneaded the soft flesh of Beata's generous ass as she pulled her flush against her and kissed hungrily. Carl and her new gal continued what they had been doing all day, exploring with eager tongues. Millie-Joyce knelt next to Lucy's wheelchair and pecked her softly on the lips. Only Jane and Maura remained apart, ostensibly exhorting their companions to greater acts of love.

After a moment, Jane spoke through the bullhorn. "Okay, ladies. Let's move on. We've made our point."

They walked as a group to the French Pavilion. Maura felt like she was in one of those old reels they used to play in history class, like she was a freedom rider, a follower of Dr. King. She walked proudly, holding tight to Jane's hand.

"Epcot France, ladies. I highly recommend the tiny, buttery quiches that they sell in the pastry shop, but it's tight in there. I myself am going to sit out here and eat crepes, lots of them. Over and out." She put the megaphone down and then picked it up again. "Kissing in 20 minutes."

Maura joined her on the grass overlooking the large blue lagoon at the park's center.

"Did you get the crepes?"

In answer she passed over a flimsy paper plate containing one thin pancake.

"Just one? WTF, Maura."

"One to a customer, there are just too many of us, Jane. You can have my share."

"No. I want to watch your face when you eat this. It's so good."

The doctor tore off a small piece and placed it in her mouth. "Delicious." She tore off another and placed it in Jane's waiting mouth, letting her thumb graze a plump lower lip. She alternated feeding herself and Jane until the plate was empty.

"So good, Maura."

"Yes, but they're even better on the streets of Paris. Promise you'll come with me one day?"

"I promise."

Maura reached out her hand again, she had no more food to offer, but she still longed to touch Jane's face. Caught with her hand reaching forward, she pretended to wipe an imaginary bit of sugar from the very corner of the detective's mouth. She pulled her eyes away from her friend's lips and looked down at her platinum Tag Heuer. "It's time, Jane."

Jane called the group to order around the central fountain. "It's face-sucking time, ladies. Let's show the world some love."

"Hey Jane, aren't you going to kiss your lady?"

"Of course I am." She placed her hands on Maura's hips and leaned in, resting her dry lips against the divot in Maura's upper lip and covering their faces from view with her wild dark hair.

"You kissed my philtrum, Jane."

"Your whats-it?"

"My philtrum." Maura placed her finger in the groove above her upper lip. "The word comes from the Latin, meaning love potion. The ancients believed that if you licked dew from a woman's philtrum, you would fall deeply in love."

Jane grunted. "Is that a medical fact, doctor?"

"No." Maura frowned. "The biological function of the infranasal depression is actually to channel moisture between the rhinarium and the mouth to aid the olfactory sense, but in modern humans it's merely vestigial."

"So it's a neanderthal booger slide?"

"Um, basically."

"Hmm. Very romantic."

Jane avoided her friend's philtrum at the Moroccan Pavilion, opting instead for a firm press of rigid lips directly against Maura's. She was certain that her breath was not fresh, having eaten a spicy chicken kabob washed down with a heady lager called Casablanca. She broke the kiss early, vowing to score a stick of gum or a mint from one of her fellow passengers.

She repeated the technique, which she had begun to think of as "The patented Rizzoli fake smooch" at Epcot Japan, where she had chugged two Kirins and gobbled down half a box of Altoids while Maura delicately sipped saki and nibbled at a stunningly beautiful piece of sashimi, cut and folded to resemble an open lotus blossom.

A local news station had arrived and was following them around, interviewing various passengers as well as tourists to the park, most of whom seemed to have a "live and let live" attitude toward the women. Jane wasn't concerned as Beata Frankenmeier was an enormous media hog and pushed herself and Coco in front of the camera every chance she got. Millie-Joyce as well seemed to crave the attention of the press. She was sitting astride Lucy's wheelchair sucking at the woman's neck and urging her to do pop-a-wheelies.

At the American Pavilion, Jane declared a temporary truce in the love war. "The food here sucks. Who wants to gnaw on a nasty old turkey leg and drink Budweiser? The bathrooms though are the best, so let's all take a pee and move on to Italy. We're nearly 40 minutes behind schedule."

Beata Frankenmeier dropped to her knees in the center of the Plaza del Teatro in Epcot Italy. Maura rushed to her side, thinking the big woman had collapsed from heat stroke, but Coco waved her back. A moment later, the diva opened her mouth and began a heart-wrenching rendition of Aida's show stopping aria, "O Patria Mia." Tourists in tropical print shirts and Birkenstocks froze, tears springing to their eyes at the passion and pain imbued in each word. The chef of Via Napoli ran out of his restaurant, weeping and kissing Beata's hands. They spoke together in rapid Italian and hugged long and hard.

"That was beautiful, Beata." Maura seconded his praise.

"Thank you. I haven't sung Verdi in a decade, but this just felt right."

At Epcot Germany, Jane indulged in her fantasy of watching Maura eat a bratwurst while wearing mouse ears. She was a little buzzed after drinking a tankard of strong wheat bier laced with raspberry syrup. Maura was feeling heady as well and pressed herself against the her friend's lean body. She ran her tongue along the seam of Jane's lips, but the detective held firm. When Jane attempted to pull back, she clung tighter, holding fast to the back of her sweaty neck, pushing her soft breasts to Jane's sternum. She tried again, licking at Jane's lower lip, but entry was unequivocally denied.

Jane felt nothing kissing Maura. That is, she didn't allow herself to feel anything. She imagined her old Zia Teresa, her nonna's sister with the mole on her nose that sprouted three black hairs even when the woman's head was white as snow. The old lady always insisted on kissing her great-niece on each cheek and then firmly on the lips in the European fashion. Maura's increased ardor at Epcot Germany didn't go unnoticed by the detective, but she chalked it up to a day of near-constant drinking. She wasn't going to allow anything that would make them awkward around each other for the rest of their vacation.

The doctor seemed to have come to her senses in China. She devoured a plate of lo mein noodles and drank nothing but a bottle of water. Her kisses under the Temple of Heaven ceremonial gate were cool and perfunctory, a mere resting of her lips against the corner of Jane's mouth.

They didn't kiss at all in Norway, rather they watched Coco jump into the lagoon in a drunken attempt to save her girlfriend's mannequin from drowning as it plummeted on schedule from the Flying Dutchman's ghost ship.

In Mexico, Jane made a big show of eating half a dozen shrimp tacos and chugging Coronas while egging on her followers to "Make this one count." It was the last Pavilion and they were already 10 minutes over their allotted six hours. She pulled Maura into a chummy hug and kissed the top of her head before offering her arm and leading the group back across the expanse of the park toward the waiting buses.

* * *

><p>Angela wrapped a towel around her damp hair and pulled on the quilted flannel robe that had been a Christmas present from Tommy. It had been a long day, starting off with a white-knuckle drive to work on roads that were glazed with a quarter inch of ice. The foul weather had everyone in a bad mood and it seemed that all of her customers were taking out their frustration on her. For the hundredth time she thought about how she could be stretched out on a chaise lounge in the sun sipping on a piña colada and watching Jane play volley ball or whatever it was they do on cruise ships. She sighed. She needed a treat, so she padded into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Pushing aside the low-fat frozen yoghurt, she went right for the good stuff: a pint of Ben &amp; Jerry's Cheesecake Brownie ice cream. She pulled a small bowl from the cabinet and then thought better of it, taking the entire container with her into the living room. She'd watch the 11 o'clock news and pig out. She deserved it.<p>

The local news was grim; snow predicted for tomorrow and Thursday with a break on Friday and then another half foot on Saturday, temperatures never getting out of the teens. She thought of her ex-husband living it up in Florida with some young tramp. He was probably wearing bermuda shorts and flip-flops now, cooling his over-heated neck with a frosty can of Coors Light. "Bastard," she mumbled into her ice cream spoon.

As if the thought of Florida sunshine had conjured it, the newscaster smiled into the camera and announced, "Breaking news out of sunny Orlando; Disney has been invaded. That's right, the home of Mickey Mouse and Snow White was under siege earlier today by an Amazon army."

"What? This should be good." Angela spoke to Jo Friday, who was nestled on her lap avidly watching every spoonful of ice cream as it traveled from the paper container into her grandmother's mouth.

"Over one thousand lesbians from an Olivia cruise ship docked in Cape Canaveral arrived in the Magic Kingdom for a day of sight seeing at Disney's Epcot Theme Park. After being repeatedly harassed by park patrons, they decided to fight back, not with weapons, but with love."

Angela put down her ice cream and fumbled for her glasses on the end table.

"With love? How do you fight back with love, Brad?" The co-anchor was asking.

"I'll tell you, Sharon, the ladies staged a kiss-a-thon at each of the park's 11 pavilions, and I believe we have some footage from our sister station in Tampa."

The television screen was filled with women of all ages, races, and sizes. They smiled happily and waved into the camera. Some flashed peace signs or mouthed "Hi mom." They were uniformly dressed in casual shorts and sneakers with bright purple T-shirts. Angela leaned forward to read the writing on the back.

"_Dyke_. Well that's not a very nice word, is it Jo?" She asked the oblivious Yorkie.

An amplified voice echoed over the murmured conversations in the park. "Show them some love, sisters!"

Angela knew that voice; it was distinct; low and raspy and definitely belonging to one Jane Clementine Rizzoli. The camera panned left and there was her Janie, standing in the shadow of a huge Japanese pagoda and holding a large, white megaphone. Angela craned her neck and squinted at the screen. "Queen of All Lesbians" she read on her daughter's purple T-shirt. Standing next to her in matching purple was Maura. Yes, definitely Maura; she would recognize that bust anywhere. She was smiling up at Jane and nodding eagerly. Jane lowered the arm with the megaphone and wrapped it around the doctor's waist, pulling her in close. "Dyke," Angela mumbled, reading the back of Maura's shirt, the word clearly visible under a cascade of carmel and blonde tresses. Maura tilted her head up and Jane bent over her. The camera pulled in closer as her daughter, her Janie, pressed her lips to Maura's and… they kissed.

The spoon clattered to the floor, but Angela didn't notice. She was completely absorbed in the image on the screen. After a moment the pair parted and smiled at each other.

"Very nice, Brad. That's the kind of war we can all get behind; a war of love and kisses."

"Absolutely, Sharon. Now let's talk football. Jeff, can we expect a Patriots win this weekend?"

Angela clicked off the television and sat in stunned silence, still riveted to the blank screen. Then she clapped her hands and laughed.

"Ringrazia a dio." She crossed herself and blew a kiss to the heavens. She put the nearly empty ice cream container on the floor for Jo Friday. "Come on girl, we're both celebrating tonight."

* * *

><p>Back in the room, Jane dropped heavily to the bed. She pressed her palms against her eyes in an attempt to hold together her jumbled thoughts. "Maur?"<p>

"Yes."

She didn't know what she wanted to ask, or rather, she knew but wasn't emotionally ready to hear the answer. She quickly deflected with her trademark humor. "Aren't you glad you didn't wear your Harvey Le Jerk?"

The doctor chuckled. "I suppose it may have clashed with my purple dyke shirt, and I have to admit that you were right about the walking. I would have had to hitch a ride with Lucy by the time we reached Japan. But…" She bent and untied a shoelace. "…my ass did not sweat."

Jane burst out laughing; the tension was broken.

"Do you want to shower first?"

"Nah, go ahead. Um, Maur?"

"Yes."

"I…I don't know what I'm trying to ask here. You said there were other women…today…on the bus."

"Yes. I remember."

"Is that true."

The doctor sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully peeling off her socks. "Yes. You know I can't lie. Does that bother you, Jane?"

"No. I just wondered why you never told me."

"You never asked."

"That's not something I would have ever thought to ask. I just assumed…"

"I never assume."

"Yeah, well you're…that's just you." Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, another attempt to hide her eyes and thoughts from the perceptive doctor. "So…you're gay."

"No. I don't think so."

Jane put on her detective persona, her best defense for hiding any emotion in her voice. "You're straight then."

She didn't look at her friend, but she imagined she was tilting her head the way she did when she was searching for a description, trying to name something that she felt, but couldn't quite explain.

"No. I wouldn't say that."

"Bi?" Jane squeaked, quickly covering her mouth, embarrassed at the tightness of her voice.

"I don't like to label myself, Jane. I'm a person, not a lab experiment."

"But you love labels. Even your labels have labels."

Maura laughed again. "Fair enough. I take people as they come. I don't limit myself by race or creed or gender. If you want to call that bisexual, so be it."

Jane nodded tightly. "Got it."

Maura entered the small shower and cried under the tepid water. Angela was wrong; Jane did not love her. Her kisses today were cold and tight-lipped. Her questions proved how uncomfortable she was with the whole idea of loving a woman. Jane was either as straight as she claimed to be or so far in the closet she'd never be able to find her way into Maura's arms. She leaned her forehead against the smooth shower wall and let the water cascade down her back. When she opened her eyes, something bright pink and phallic in the corner of the shower caught her attention. Her mood instantly improved. Jane had come so far in just three days; it was not hopeless.

Jane squeezed her slender body onto the balcony, wedging herself between two of Maura's bigger suitcases. They had left port and the rhythmic thrum of the big diesel engines and steady beating of waves against the hull soothed her. She felt the beginnings of helpless tears leaking from her eyes, but here in the salty breeze they were quickly whisked away. Maura didn't love her. This was worse than being in love with her straight best friend. She was in love with her friend who was open to other women, just not her. The thought of Maura with a girlfriend was worse, infinitely worse than imagining her with a man.

She leaned over the railing as far as she could, enjoying the feel of the wind pulling through her hair and blowing back salt-damp tendrils to caress her neck. She remembered the feel of Maura's gentle hand on the back of her neck as they kissed in Epcot. _Fake kissed_. The doctor had twice run her tongue across Jane's lips; asking for entry, which Jane had denied. _Why? Because it__'__s not real. _It would only be real here, in the cabin where they were just Jane and Maura, not fake gay, fake girlfriends, fake kissing on this fake vacation. She leaned over further and growled her frustration into the wind.

"Jane?" Maura rushed the balcony, knocking aside luggage in a desperate scramble to reach her friend. Jane appeared to be vomiting over the railing and was in real danger of pitching headfirst into the Atlantic. With a grunt, she heaved her wheeled suitcase behind her, losing her towel in the struggle. She took a step forward and wrapped her arm's around Jane's narrow hips, pulling her back. Unprepared for the attack, Jane lost her balance and the pair fell backwards, through the open balcony door and into the cabin.

"Maura, what the fuck?" She reached behind her and felt something soft and warm and not clothed. "Are you naked?"

"Yes. I lost my towel during my rescue attempt. Modesty hardly seemed a priority when your life hung in the balance."

"My life? Were you smoking crack in the shower?"

"You were retching into the ocean. I feared you would lose your balance and fall overboard."

Jane laughed. "I was screaming into the wind. I only lost my balance when you tackled me."

"Oh, Primal Therapy; that was very popular in the 1970s after Janov published his book. John Lennon was an adherent, but it has fallen out of fashion."

"Yeah, well…" They sat in silence for a moment, both hyperaware of Maura's bare breasts pressed against Jane's back and her naked thighs splayed on either side of the detective's narrow hips.

Jane moved first. She stood and without looking grabbed the discarded towel and passed it to the doctor. "Thank you for fake saving me, Maur, and for being my fake girlfriend." She offered her hands and the towel-clad figure took them and stood.

"No problem, Jane. You're my real best friend and I love you."

"I love you too, Maura."

They stood in the tiny space, still holding hands. Maura gazed into the warm chocolate eyes of her best friend, attempting to telegraph love and acceptance, trust and openness with just enough desire to make her intentions clear, but not enough to scare Jane away. Jane gazed back, trying to read all that was there in the shifting colors; gold and green and… Maura closed her eyes and tilted up her chin. Jane bent down and brushed her own chapped lips softly against the doctor's. The contact was brief and tremulous, but it filled them both with hope.

"I'm going to shower now. We don't want to disappoint Beata."

"No, of course not. Coco says that Led Zeppelin is the Wagner of the rock world."

Jane paused in the bathroom door. "Did you actually hear her say that?"

"Well, no. Beata said it, but Coco agreed."

Their eyes met again, happier now. "That's right." They both said together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you all for continuing on this crazy cruise with me. I hope you will join us at our next port of call, St. Thomas USVI.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane awoke with a shudder. The room was freezing and for a moment she imagined she was back in Boston during a blizzard. Maybe she had fallen asleep in her Crown Vic after too many beers at the Dirty Robber or perhaps the heater in her building had died; it wouldn't be the first time. She groaned and snuggled back under the blankets, instinctively drawing close to the warmth to her right. _So_ _warm. So soft. Mmmm…_ "Mmmaura!" She woke again and snapped her eyes open. The doctor sat propped against her pillows, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, happily tapping away on her Macbook and seemingly oblivious to Jane's leg thrown over her thighs and Jane's face pressed so tightly into her side that her nose flattened and resembled a pig's snout.

"Good morning, detective. Did you sleep well?"

"Umm…yeah." Jane quickly pulled back her leg.

"I enjoyed the concert last night. I've been contemplating Coco's comparison of Led Zeppelin to Wagner and I think I may agree. That one song in particular, about Valhalla and the hammer of the gods, that could easily be inserted into Der Ring des Nibelungen."

"The Immigrant Song? Yeah, that's a good one. Ah-Ahhh-Ah-Ahhhhh. We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs flow…," Jane rasped.

"That's the one! I'd like you to burn it onto my ipod when we get home."

"Sure, Maur. I have it on CD. Beata did a hell of a job; if Zep wants to tour again without Robert Plant, they would have to look no further than the stage of the Metropolitan Opera."

Maura closed the laptop and contemplated her sleep-tousled friend. She reached out a hand and brushed aside an errant black lock from Jane's eyes. She bit her lower lip and thought about how to phrase the happy thoughts that had been buzzing through her mind. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. I have friends. People see me at a table and want to join me, to talk to me. They laugh at my jokes, even when I don't know I've made one…"

"Hmmph." Jane grunted.

"Beata and Coco would like to keep in touch after the cruise; we exchanged numbers and they want to have dinner with us when Beata sings at Symphony Hall next month. Millie-Joyce gave me her email as well, and Big Carl lives barely a mile from my parent's summer home on Martha's Vineyard. She says we can go fishing on her father's boat this summer; you love fishing, Jane… and then there's Jill and Diane, they live just three blocks down from me…"

"Maura, stop. You do realize that they all think we are a couple. Do you want to keep up this charade once we're off the ship?"

The doctor was quiet; this question skittered a little too close to the fine line she'd been walking since boarding the ship. "I… I don't know, Jane…." _Yes you do. _"I like the feeling of belonging to someone. I…I like belonging to you."

"Oh, babe…"

She was immediately swept up in Jane's strong embrace as the detective planted soft kisses along her temple and behind her ear. She pushed her glasses up into her hairline so she could nuzzle Jane's long, graceful neck unimpeded, but when her kisses reached the detective's lips, she pulled back and sprung from the bed.

"Morning breath, Maura."

"I don't mind. I've smelled worse things in the morgue."

Jane shot her a wry look and squeezed past the bed and into the bathroom, snicking the door closed behind her.

Jane scrubbed her face and brushed her teeth carefully, spending extra time on her tongue and the stubborn crown on her last molar where food always stuck. She was certain that if she returned to the bed, she could kiss Maura, really kiss her and caress her, touch some of the places she had dreamed about for years. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she felt dampness flood into the champion shorts that she slept in. She caught her own eager reflection in the mirror. _This is just more pretending, fakery spilling under the cabin door. She doesn't love you. She loves being accepted by this ship full of lesbians, and she will tolerate your kisses to belong. Go ahead, kiss her and ruin the one good thing in your life._

She waited in the bathroom until her heart returned to its normal, steady rhythm and her tears had dried, then put on her practiced expression of indifference and returned to the room.

Maura was still sitting in bed, her Macbook once again open on her bent knees. "Jane, can we please have dinner in town? I found a beautiful restaurant that overlooks Charlotte-Amalie with views of Elephant Bay and Water Island beyond. It's, dare I say… romantic."

Jane snorted. "You're just tired of eating cruise ship food. I myself will never tire of all-you-can-eat everything. But we can go to your snooty chow shop, and if I leave hungry, which is bound to be the case, I can just hit the buffet back on the good old ship." She returned to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers, careful to keep her distance, though she could still feel the heat of the doctor's body impressed into the sheets and blankets.

Maura noted the distance, but didn't comment. "I'll make a reservation. When are we leaving port?"

"Dunno, Maur, you're the brains in this relationship."

Maura padded out of bed and reached for "Sappho's Sheet," the daily cruise newsletter that their room steward had slipped under the door sometime in the wee hours. Jane immediately missed her warmth. As usual, the doctor had cranked the air-conditioning up as high as it would go and condensation ran down the glass doors to the balcony in the humid tropical air outside. She shivered. "What are you going to do when you hit menopause? We'll have to stack dry ice blocks under the bed." Jane flushed; she hoped Maura hadn't picked up the "we," the implication that they would be sharing a bed in their menopausal years. But the doctor never missed anything. She returned to the bed with a grin. "Just my side, Jane. You can stack phosphorescent lithium hydride blocks under yours."

"So what am I doing today, besides stopping at the duty-free to buy cigarettes for Carla Talucci."

"What?"

"Yeah, apparently St. Thomas has the highest duty-free allowances in the Caribbean. Ma promised Carla she'd buy her cigarettes. We can bring in 10 cartons between us."

"I'm not smuggling cigarettes into the country, Jane."

"It's not smuggling; it's all perfectly legal."

"I do not approve."

"I'll make a note of that on your custom form, right next to the line where it says I am bringing in five cartons of Misty Menthol Ultra Lights for my own personal consumption."

The doctor rolled her eyes and snapped open the newsletter. She squinted at the paper, drawing it closer to her face and then further away. Eventually she gave up with a sigh and dropped her glasses into place from the top of her head. "We leave port at 10:00, all aboard is 9:30, so we should have plenty of time for a nice dinner in town. I'll make a reservation for 7:00. Let's see…." She ran a finger down a line of small print. "Do you want to go zip lining through the jungle?"

"No! Am I doing that?"

"You're not…unless you want to. I'm sure it could be arranged."

"No."

"Oh, how about cage diving with hungry sharks?"

"They couldn't be much worse than what I face on the streets of Boston, but no."

"How about a day at the beach, with a lobster lunch, all-you-can-drink rum punch or beer and complementary beach chair or chaise lounge provided?"

"Duh! Who would choose anything else? That's what we're doing, Maur, call the excursion desk and book it."

"I don't have to. You're the entertainment, Jane."

The detective groaned and stretched, her long arms spanning the width of the bed. "Can't I just lie in the sun and get drunk? That's all I want; one day to myself. What am I doing? Inserting my fingers into a bagel that you hold between your ass cheeks? Fisting a bundt cake? This shit's getting old."

Maura chuckled. "There are, in fact, many health benefits to anal penetration, particularly for men. Note to self: Give a short lecture on prostate milking when we return to work. Older gentlemen, such as Sean and Vincent could really benefit from it."

"Are you insane, Maura? You are going to teach our co-workers how to finger their own asses? Note to self: Put a gag on Maura when we get back to work."

"Not only men, Jane."

"Uh, I know I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure I don't have a prostate."

"You do not, but indirect stimulation of the skene's glands through the female anus can increase lubrication and flush harmful bacteria from the vagina."

"Eww, Maura, just…eww."

"It can also lead to female ejaculation."

"Blech. Male ejaculation is bad enough, I don't want to add to the mess."

"Interestingly enough, the fluid produced in a woman's skene's glands is nearly identical to the fluid produced in the male prostate."

"Fascinating."

"Isn't it? But, you will not be digitally stimulating any food products today, Jane. You are judging a wet T-shirt contest."

"Great."

* * *

><p>Magens Bay Beach was a secluded stretch of white sand nestled in a horseshoe of greenery. The water was calm and a clear, pale blue stretching out to the darker Atlantic. Maura knew it would be warm and inviting, having checked the data feed of the three closest weather buoys from her Macbook before leaving the ship.<p>

"It's beautiful, Jane. Maybe we could snorkel later, we may even see a sea tortoise."

"Sure, but right now we have to move. I want to snag a spot in the first row by the water. I don't want to get stuck under a tree or near the toilets. Over there, Maura, plop your ass down and wait for me. I'll get the chaises. Don't let any of these lesbians bully you out of our spot."

The doctor plopped down as instructed, but was instantly surrounded by women spreading out blankets and towels, unpacking beach bags full of snacks and blowing up water toys. She looked about helplessly; there was no way Jane would be able to fit their chairs here.

"Lesbians! Your queen is coming through, make room for me and my… uh other queen."

Everyone around the crowded doctor good-naturedly moved aside and Jane easily deposited their chairs facing the gently lapping sea. "Good job, Maura."

"Really?"

"No," Jane snarked, but her eyes were soft and she leaned in and kissed her friend on the side of her mouth.

"Awwww." Everyone around them sighed and clapped.

"This is the perfect spot. I triangulated, just like you're always doing."

"Good thinking, Jane. Just this morning I extrapolated data from three weather buoys to determine sea height and temperature."

"Well I triangulated us between the bar, the water, and the toilets. Take off your saigon and let me dose you with another squirt of sunscreen before I head over to my punishment."

"It's a sarong. The word has a very interesting history, it's actually pronounced sarung in…"

"I know the history, Maura, it's pig Latin for a cheap piece of fabric, so ugly I wouldn't use it for kitchen curtains that you paid more than my monthly salary for."

Maura shot her a dirty look, but her dimples were deep and her eyes sparkling. She unwrapped the insulted garment from her waist and made a big show of carefully folding it and placing it into her beach bag. Jane feigned impatience, but her eyes never left the curvy body in the pale green bikini.

"Jane! Paging Detective Jane Rizzoli!" Millie-Joyce Ming had claimed a 10-foot stretch of shore line and was swaggering back and forth across the beach, microphone in hand. "Come on, Jane, the boobs are baking, the jugs are shaking, and we all are waiting for you."

"Go, Jane." Maura sat back on her lounge chair and pulled a pair of sunglasses from her bag. "I'll be fine. You can reapply my lotion after your contest."

Jane groaned and stomped off, carefully picking her way through a maze of beach chairs and blankets, coolers and bikini-clad women.

Millie-Joyce had the crowd revved up to a fever pitch. She swung her Wimbledon-winning tennis racket, batting rainbow colored beach balls into the crowd and passing out pink feather boas and noisemakers.

"You smaller-busted gals, don't hold back; If it were only a matter of size, we'd just roll out a poultry scale and you could slap your girls on top. But no, there's much more that goes into this. We are looking for not the biggest, but the best. How do you carry them? How do they carry you? Are they perky? Floppy? Saggy? Lop-sided? Bouncy? Doesn't matter. We love them all, right ladies? So let's have some fun. Boob pride, sisters! That's what's going to win this contest. Right, Jane?"

"Er…right."

"Is Maura competing?"

"Hell no."

"Maura?" Millie-Joyce shaded her eyes and looked across the expanse of chaise lounges. "Where's your girlfriend, Jane? Doesn't she want to compete, or are you keeping her glorious rack all to yourself?"

"Maura is the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and a graduate of Harvard Medical School. I think she'd rather die than parade her boobs in a wet T-shirt."

"Oh well, every party has a pooper."

Everyone laughed.

Millie-Joyce tucked her microphone into her tracksuit and did three perfect cartwheels in the damp sand along the shoreline, ending up in a split in front of the beach bar. She leapt to her feet with the grace of a gymnast. "I found Maura. What are you drinking Maura?"

"Rum punch."

"Yummy. Remember everyone, there is unlimited free beer and rum punch for all here at the beach bar. Drink up ladies, the boobs look better the more you drink. Shall I bring a rum punch back to your girlfriend?"

"Oh no, Jane drinks beer."

Millie-Joyce continued to hold the microphone in front of Maura's face, hoping for another bon mot, like the pineapple ring gaffe during the triathlon. The doctor was growing nervous, she didn't know what she was supposed to say. She looked to Jane, but her expression was unreadable, so she riffled through the vast library of her mind for an appropriate topic. _Lesbians and beer._

"Did you know…" She asked Millie-Joyce. "…that beer and vagina have the same pH? Both contain lactic acids, lactobacillus to be exact, and strains of yeast; Saccharomyces cerevisiae and Candida albicans."

"Wow." Millie-Joyce grinned. "I didn't know that. Do you think that's why Jane likes beer so much, that it reminds her of your vagina?"

Maura flushed, unable to think of a witty comeback. She shot back her punch in one unladylike gulp and gestured to the bartender for another. When she turned back to answer, the tennis legend was gone, having cartwheeled back down the beach where she was leading the rowdy crowd in a chant of "A beer and a pussy, two tits!"

"Are we ready?" Millie-Joyce asked.

"We're ready!" The crowd responded.

"What do we love?"

"Boooooooooobs!"

Maura ducked behind a copse of palm trees with her cellphone and pressed the icon with her mother's photo. The line was silent for several minutes as cell towers around the world communicated with one another; there was never any knowing where Constance Isles may be at any given time. Eventually a connection was made with a strange buzzing chirp.

Constance's crisp voice sounded clear across the miles. "Maura? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Mother. Where are you? It took longer than usual to get a connection. Then again, the delay may be on my end; I'm in St. Thomas."

"I'm in Beijing, darling. Why are you in the US Virgin Islands? Work? I'm certain you would have chosen a better destination for holiday; St. Barts perhaps or Aruba, even Tortola."

"I'm on a lesbian cruise. It was a gift from Angela."

"Oh. Are you coming out of the closet then, dear girl? You've always been a dabbler; I remember that one girl on Majorca, a Scandinavian giantess. You were quite smitten, if I recall correctly."

Maura rolled her eyes. Constance was intoxicated, not drunk, but talkative and chummy. "I'm here with Jane, Mother."

"Of course you are. The softball playing homicide detective, quelle surprise. So how are the accommodations? Are you dining at the captain's table?"

"Why all the questions, Mother? Are you considering booking one?"

"No, darling, cruises went out of fashion around the time the Titanic sunk."

There was a crinkly burning sound and Constance inhaled deeply on the other end of the line.

"Mother, are you smoking again?"

"Yes and I'm loving every minute of it, so don't you dare lecture me."

"I don't have time for a lecture." Maura lowered herself gracefully to the cool sand, carefully tucking her legs to the side. "I've called for advice, but this may not be the best time."

"It's a perfect time, darling. I'm relaxing in my hotel room with my Lagavulin and my Gauloises. I could chat all night."

That was exactly what Maura feared, Constance Isles on single malt scotch was a study in contradictions; her mood fluctuated from convivial and kind to cruel and sarcastic. Maura never knew quite how to take her, especially over the phone without the visual clues to aid her interpretation.

"Mother, I…"

"What is it, darling? Did the Rizzoli girl try to kiss you and you're looking for a way to let her down easily? Did you sleep with her and now everything is awkward between the two of you?"

"No. I…" Maura drew a deep breath. "Angela told me that Jane's in love with me and…"

"Of course she is, anyone can see that and why wouldn't she be? You're lovely, Maura, and out of her league entirely." Constance exhaled loudly and the sound of a cigarette being tamped out in an ashtray followed. "One of the few perks of traveling in Asia is that you can still smoke everywhere."

"The couple in the room next to us smoke on their balcony and it's very unpleasant."

"Good for them, Maura, stop being such a prig. If they're on their balcony, they're outside. Do you advocate legislating the air?"

"No, Mother." She knew better than getting into a debate with Constance when she was in this condition.

Constance lit another and poured herself a second scotch. "I'm listening, dear girl. Tell mother what's bothering you."

"Jane is sending very mixed signals. I have trouble with the most direct approach. What should I do, mother?"

"Depends. What is it that you want?"

"I love her. I want her to know it's all right to love me back."

Constance sighed. "Well I suppose then you should tell her."

"I have, but she takes it to mean platonic love."

"Well, get naked and tell her and then give her a kiss." Constance poured herself another scotch.

Maura was quiet. "What if Angela is wrong?"

"She's not." Came the quick reply. "I noted it myself when I was last in Boston. The woman loves you; it's clear as day. If you want her, she's yours."

"I do, Mother."

"Then go with my blessing, dear girl, I wish you all the happiness in the world."

Maura returned to her chaise and lay on her belly. She had very little interest in watching the day's festivities. It was at best a hetero normative activity, at worst a degradation. She did not approve of judging a woman on her parts. She reached behind her and untied the string of her pale green bikini top. She'd doze in the sun for a few minutes then move to the shade and read her book, it had been years since she'd read Мастер и Маргарита, which was probably her favorite Russian novel of all time.

Millie-Joyce strutted in the sand, a rainbow beanie with a propeller on her head. "Jane, pick an assistant."

A thousand hands shot up. She looked toward the beach bar, but the doctor was gone, nor was she on her chaise lounge. She must have gone to the bathroom. It was probably for the best; Maura would have turned a wet T-shirt contest into a breast cancer screening. She scanned the eager crowd. Some women were actually jumping up and down screaming, "Me! Me! Me!"

"Beata?" She asked. The big diva and her partner were lounging on one chaise in the first row, sharing a fishbowl-sized glass of rum punch with two straws and a bag of Funions.

"Can't do it, Jane, I'm a contestant and Coco recuses herself for the same reason."

"That's right." Coco seconded.

"Carl?"

"Yes!" The little police officer screamed from someplace outside of Jane's line of sight. In a moment she was standing beside Millie-Joyce doing a clumsy Roger Rabbit and shaking her cargo-short covered ass.

"We have 30 contestants. We could have had 300, there were so many interested parties, but there are only so many breasts Jane can squeeze before they all blend into one another."

Jane swallowed hard, she was glad she was wearing her mirrored Bolle sunglasses because she was certain her pupils were wide with panic. She'd have to squeeze 30, no 60, breasts. _Argh._

Big Carl was jumping up and down next to Millie-Joyce. "Do I get to squeeze, too?"

"Sure."

"Yes!" She held up her fist and Jane gave it a reluctant bump.

A steel drum band had set up on the sand to Millie-Joyce's right, three drums of different sizes played by shirtless men in dreadlocks. A fourth drum sat in the sand as its owner pushed a wheelbarrow through the crowd, hawking freshly picked coconuts for $5 a piece. When he made a sale he would pull a well-worn machete from his belt and expertly pare it open. "Co-co-nuts here, ya ya co-co-nuts, so fresh, so nice. Ya ya co-co-nuts here." His cry became a song in rhythm with the drummers. Millie-Joyce and Carl began to dance, lifting their legs high off the ground and rolling their hips.

"Come on, Jane, dance with us."

"I don't dance."

"Oh, you are just too cool for school, Detective Rizzoli."

Beata joined them and the three joined hands in a circle around Jane, occasionally bumping her with their hips. Jane stood stoic, bare feet planted in the sand, arms crossed over her Red Socks tank staring straight ahead.

The song ended and Millie-Joyce wiped her sweaty neck with a bandana. "Whew. It's hot out here ladies. Who's feeling the heat? Who's getting hot and bothered?"

"We are!" The crowd yelled back. "Show us some tits!"

"Let's get started. Contestants come on down. Take off your shirts and put on one of our extra cheap, extra thin, no-frills white Tees. We have every size, but I suggest going for a tight fit. If you're a medium, grab a small and so on. Once your suited up, take a stroll into the beautiful warm water and wet those ta-tas!"

The drummers started up again, a calypso-tinged version of the Benny Hill Theme Song, as 30 women bared their breasts, squeezed into tight shirts and ran, hand-in-hand into the ocean.

"Jane, show us your tits!" Someone yelled.

"No, show us those six-pack abs!"

She pulled up her shirt and flashed her abdomen for a split second, eliciting cat calls and wolf whistles.

"You can squeeze my boobs any day." A few women shouted.

"Hey, I'm very taken." Jane answered with a grin.

"Are those boobies wet, ladies? Are they soaked and dripping? Are those shirts plastered tight to your titties? Yeeee-ha!" Millie-Joyce tossed her beanie into the air. "Let the judging begin!"

Big Carl danced a happy jig, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "This is gonna be so good!"

The band played an upbeat tune with a regular beat and the first contestant approached, a middle-aged woman with a grey crew-cut, very fit and tan.

"State your name, hometown and your bra size." Millie-Joyce instructed.

"I'm Barbara from Bridgeport, 34B."

"Give it up for Barbara!"

The crowed hooted and whistled.

Jane stared straight ahead, over the grey crew cut in front of her, she reached up her hands and gave a cursory feel. _This is just a suspect that you're frisking. You pulled her over for a DWI, Rizzoli. No big whoop, as Maura would say._ _Maura_. She looked down briefly. These breasts were nothing like Maura's.

"Um, very nice." She muttered and passed her on to a very eager Carl.

"Next!"

"I'm Tracee from New Jersey and I'm a 36D. My ex-husband bought them for me for my 40th. That was before I ran off with the pool-girl."

Everyone laughed. "Go Tracee! Go Tracee!"

Jane looked down, the woman was attractive and bleached blond with a rack that did not fit her slender frame. She tentatively nudged the big mammaries and was not surprised that they didn't give.

"Lovely." She mumbled. Tracee stood on tip-toes and kissed her chin.

By the sixth pair, Jane was in a stupor, she moved her hands automatically, gave a half-hearted squeeze, uttered a word or two of praise, and moved on. She had already made up her mind to declare Beata Frankenmeier the winner. The diva would make a big show of it and the crowd would be happy.

As if Jane's thoughts had conjured her, the woman herself appeared, her white t-shirt stretched tight as a sausage casing over her prodigious bosom. She winked at Jane and turned to the crowd. "Beata from New York City, 44E!" She trilled the last word and her voice carried over the drummers and out to sea. "That was a high E, in case you were wondering."

She was the crowd favorite and the cheers lasted a full minute. She turned to Jane and grabbed both of her hands, rubbing them back and forth over her erect nipples. They were enormous, like maraschino cherries under Jane's palms.

"Wow." Was all Jane could muster. She looked toward Coco, who was reclining back on her chaise lounge, smoking a cigar. "That's right." She nodded and gave Jane a thumbs up.

The final contestant was a slim, older woman with a long white braid. "I'm Fran from Nashua, New Hampshire. I used to be a 36C, but I got the cancer and had a double mastectomy." She stood proudly in front of Jane, arms akimbo. Jane reached down and ran her fingertips across two seams of knotted scar tissue. She pushed her sunglasses up into her hairline and met the woman's cool grey eyes. "Beautiful." She said and bent to plant a kiss on a warm cheek.

A thousand women began ululating, drowning out the drummers and frightening a flock of seabirds from trees behind them.

"Do we have a winner?" Millie-Joyce Ming screamed into her microphone.

Jane and Carl turned to each other and nodded in agreement. "Fran." Jane stated. "Fran from New Hampshire."

Maura woke when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She had been dreaming of snow, great blowing swaths of it, piling up outside of her window, but inside it was so hot. "Jesus, Maur, you're red as a lobster."

* * *

><p>The hallways along Deck Four seemed darker and narrower, the carpeting was worn, no doubt from thousands of feet treading it daily to exit the gangways in the smaller ports. They made their way slowly toward the stern and the white sign emblazoned with a red cross. Below the sign hung a photo of a smiling youngish woman dressed in a crisp white naval uniform. "Dr. Maria-Luz Concepcion, Philippines," it read. Jane liked the cruise ship's policy of having the country of origin and flag on the name badge of all cruise staff. She played a game with herself, trying to guess before looking; she was always wrong. Maura like it too, she was able to greet everyone who helped them with a few friendly words in their native tongue, eliciting warm smiles from a crew who spent 10 months at a time aboard ship and away from their families.<p>

Dr. Concepcion rushed from her exam room, white lab coat billowing behind her when her assistant announced the name of her next patient. She was tiny and kind and reminded Jane immediately of Susie Chang. "Oh, Dr. Maura, what has happened?"

"I foolishly fell asleep in the sun."

"That is not good. The sun closer to the equator is dangerous to those not used to it. Come in, come in. Let me see how bad it is." The little doctor led Maura, who Jane now bizarrely began to think of as "The big doctor," into her exam room. "Do you want your wife to come in?"

"Yes, please."

_Wife, argh, _Jane thought, but she followed the pair down the narrow hall.

Maura was leaning against the paper-covered exam table in the center of the room while Dr. Concepcion bustled around her, gathering supplies. "I am going to cut away this shirt, okay?"

"That's fine." Maura agreed, not at all sad to lose the XXL "I did it in St. Thomas" t-shirt that Jane had hastily bought from a street vendor to cover her. The cheap fabric fell away, revealing a back and legs that were glowing, not red, but hot pink, like the center of a steak cooked to medium rare.

"Oh, babe." Jane muttered under her breath; it looked painful.

"You are fair." The Filipina doctor stated. "You freckle?"

"Yes."

"Never tan?"

"I do, but not easily."

"You should apply the strongest sunscreen every 30 minutes and limit your exposure to an hour at a time."

"I know. This was entirely preventable." Maura sighed.

"Come here, Mrs. Isles." The doctor gestured to Jane.

_Mrs. Isles? _She had always assumed she'd be the Mr. if she and Maura were ever together. Maybe she wasn't as butch as she imagined.

"Put your hand very close to the skin… closer, but do not touch."

Jane did as she was told and could feel waves of heat coming off of Maura.

"You feel? Still the skin is burning even after the sun is no longer above, like a piece of meat still cooks after you take it from the flame. But this is living flesh, and it will heal."

"Second degree, doctor?" Maura asked.

"I don't think so, but let me look closer." She rooted through her desk and returned wearing a pair of binocular lenses. She dropped to the floor and examined every inch of Maura's back from her ankles to the part on top of her head, which she viewed standing on a step-stool. "First degree; I see no signs of blistering." She announced. "But it will be painful, especially the soft skin behind the knees and at the sides of the breasts. I will give you a jar of hydrocortisone cream for the swelling and aloe for the sting. You can also take an NSAID every four hours for pain, do you have ibuprofen? In 48 hours the photodermatitis and pruritus should begin and the pain withdraw. Turn around, Dr. Maura. Are you burned in the front?"

"Just my nose."

It wasn't Maura's reddened nose that drew Jane's eyes as she slowly turned from the table. She had often sneaked a look down Maura's blouse at her admirable cleavage and caught a peek from the side when they changed at the gym, but now she was face to face with the objects of years of her fantasies. Her fantasies had not done them justice; they were fuller and rounder, low-slung and bottom-heavy above Maura's taut ribcage with just the perfect ratio of rosy nipple to lighter areola. Jane unconsciously licked her lips then snapped her eyes up to Maura's amused face. Yes, the doctor missed nothing.

"You would have won." Jane croaked in embarrassment.

"You chose the right winner, Jane. I'm proud of you."

"The nose…" Dr. Concepcion interrupted. "…is also first degree, same treatment. We have one more day in paradise before we head back to the cold. Unfortunately, Dr. Maura, there will be no beach for you on St. Maarten. Too bad, I think the clearest, bluest water is found there. But, there are many other things to do. If you go out again, cover yourself in a loose fabric and wear a big hat."

They returned to their stateroom, Maura in a set of loose-fitting scrubs borrowed from Dr. Concepcion's "chubbier" colleague.

"I am not chubby." Maura had protested during the elevator ride to the tenth deck. "I read that the average cruiser puts on 5–7 pounds during a week-long vacation, but I've been abstemious. I've only indulged a bit in alcoholic libations."

"Maura, for the hundredth time, you are perfect. That doctor is bird-like and prepubescent. She said Dr. Alvarez was chubby, not you, and look how loose those scrubs fit. I could squeeze myself into them with you."

Maura pouted, but stopped complaining. The thought of Jane pressed against her stirred something, despite the pain.

Once in the room, she untied the drawstring at her waist and carefully dropped the scrub pants onto the carpet. Removing the top would be more difficult since the burn across her shoulders made lifting her arms extremely painful. "Jane, I need help with this."

"Do you want me to cut it off?"

"No! If I don't feel better, I'll need to wear this again tomorrow."

"Okay. Um…can you lift your arms, a little?" Jane stood behind her and ran her cool hands up the doctor's burned sides as she lifted the blue scrub top up and over her head. Maura hissed as the scratchy fabric ran up her back.

"All done. What now?"

"I'm going to take off my bikini bottom…"

"Why?" Jane gasped.

"Because it is an Emilio Pucci and I don't want it ruined when you rub me down with hydrocortisone cream."

The doctor hitched her thumbs under the pale green fabric but whimpered when she bent to shimmy the bikini down her thighs. "Jane?"

"Yeah, I got it." She took a deep breath and squatted behind Maura, grasping the shimmery fabric between her fingers and gently lowering it, inch by inch over her friend's curvy hips and round buttocks, pulling it back as it grazed her thighs to keep the friction from the burned back of her legs. Maura's bare ass was inches from her face, firm and creamy white against the fuchsia of her thighs and back. She impulsively leaned in and planted a quick kiss on the swell of the doctor's left butt cheek.

"Jane?"

"Sorry. Um…the next time you tell me to kiss your ass, I can say that I already did."

Maura chuckled. "Fair enough. I am going to lie across the bed now and…"

"Yeah, I know, I can smear you full of hydroxy-cocaine."

"Not yet. First we need to cool the skin."

"Ice?"

"No, just water, not too cold."

Jane stepped into the bathroom for a washcloth while Maura awkwardly knelt on the bed, gingerly lowering herself onto the mattress. The detective lingered in the doorway, watching. She had expected Maura to be waxed clean, hairless, but was pleased to note the trimmed triangle of light brown curls on her pubis. _Pervert, Rizzoli. _She ducked quickly into the bathroom and returned with the cloth and the room's ice bucket filled with cool water.

Maura's skin was still hot to the touch, she gently lowered the damp cloth to a pink shoulder and let it lay a moment before pulling it inch by inch across the doctor's upper back. She dipped it into the bucket and moved lower, tenderly patting the cloth and moving on.

"You have a gentle touch."

"I don't want to hurt you. This is my fault; I was horsing around when I should have been by your side. I was a bad girlfriend, um… fake girlfriend."

"You're a wonderful girlfriend, Jane. You always take care of me, protect me, make me feel loved."

"I do, you know." Jane's hand was lingering on the back of the doctor's right thigh, slowly following the outline of taut hamstrings below the pink skin with her cooling cloth.

"You do what, Jane?"

"Love you." Her voice was small, almost as whisper.

"I know. I love you too."

"Yes, but I am in love with you, Maura."

"Good. It would be terribly painful if my feelings were not reciprocated."

"Your feelings?"

"Come here."

Jane placed the bucket on the floor and stretched out until she was lying on her side beside the doctor. Maura lifted her head from the mattress and turned toward Jane. "Kiss me."

"Okay."

"But be careful of my nose."

Jane leaned in and rested her lips against Maura's, allowing herself a moment to appreciate the softness, to breathe in the scent of the sea coming off of her hair mingled with the coconut of her ineffectual sunscreen. Maura moved slowly, sucking gently on Jane's upper and lower lip in turn, pausing just to feel the softness of Jane's skin against her mouth, the suppleness of her lips, the smooth silk of her cheek. It had been so long since she'd kissed a woman, she'd forgotten how wonderfully delicate, how deliciously tender it was. She painfully raised her arm to cup the detective's chin.

"Jane."

Long black lashes fluttered open, revealing dark eyes.

"Maura…I…"

Her jumbled thoughts were cut off with a kiss, hungrier, less tentative. Jane parted her lips and tasted rum punch on Maura's tongue. She shifted, wanting to be closer, to touch, to feel. Her needy hand floated in the air above Maura's back, unable to caress the painful skin. Instead she led with her mouth, kissing harder, owning Maura's lips, her tongue.

"Ouch, watch my nose, Jane."

"Sorry. I got carried away."

"It's okay."

"I don't want to hurt you, I just… I just want to hold you and I can't."

"Maybe not today, but definitely tomorrow and the next day and… I have an idea. Take your clothes off."

"Why?"

"Because I want to look at you. I'm naked and completely vulnerable. It's the least you can do for the sake of fairness."

Jane hesitated, looking down at her tattered jean shorts and Sox tank.

"Don't be shy, Jane. You have a beautiful body."

She unbuttoned her shorts and slipped out of them, revealing legs tanned to caramel from the tropical sun, her quadriceps flexed and relaxed as she kicked aside the frayed denim. Maura raised herself onto her elbows. The Sox shirt slid up and over firmly muscled abs and dropped to the floor, raven tresses spilling over broad, lean shoulders. Locking eyes with Maura, Jane untied her bikini top and after a small hesitation let it fall. Her breasts were high and firm, tipped with dark cocoa nipples.

"Oh." Maura sighed. Finally Jane lowered her bikini bottoms, stepping out of them gracefully. Her pubic thatch was thick and glossy, a sable pelt below her rippling abdomen. Maura licked her lips.

"What do we do now… babe?"

"Now, you can rub the hydrocortisone cream on my back and legs."

"Okay."

"And then come lie down with me."

Maura sank back down into the mattress, glad to have a layer of cotton batting and foam beneath her to muffle the sound of her galloping heart. Jane knelt beside her and dipped three trembling fingers into the jar, she pushed golden tresses aside and gently, in slow loving circles, applied the ointment. When she reached Maura's thighs, they parted imperceptibly in advance of her hand. She paused. Was this an invitation? She didn't know, so she moved on. Maura did not comment, she merely lay still and let Jane work her way silently and reverently down the length of her body.

When she was finished, she rejoined Maura at the head of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Miserable and wonderful all at once."

"You're so beautiful, and I've loved you for so long." Jane felt a sob growing in her chest. She sipped tiny gulps of air in an attempt to hold it back.

"Jane." Maura shifted as much as she could and rested a hand on Jane's prominent hipbone. "I've loved you just as long."

"How? That's not possible."

"It is. You know I can't lie. Didn't you wonder why I was able to tell everyone this week that I was in love with you and that I belonged to you?"

"I didn't think."

"I've always been yours."

Jane reached out one slender hand and found a thin strip of white along Maura's hip where the sun hadn't penetrated her bikini bottom. She stroked the soft skin with the pads of her fingers.

"You're mine."

"I am."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you all for your thoughtful comments and encouragements, they mean the world to me. I loved hearing from a reader who was inspired to create a "Jane's Amazon Army" T-shirt and a beautiful labrys shirt with the word for lesbian in many different languages. Her designs are available to view and purchase on her site: shopw4w dot spreadshirt dot com. I hope you all join me and our Rizzles lovebirds at the next port of call, St. Maarten.


	7. Chapter 7

Jane was startled awake and bolted upright in bed. Someone was banging on the door insistently, great gorilla knocks that rattled the hangers in the armoire and woke the woman sleeping peacefully at her side. They had just closed their eyes, or so it seemed. Three Advils and half a Xanax had made Maura comfortable enough to doze, and now this.

"Hold your fucking horses. Gimme a minute." The knocking stopped. Jane looked about for her discarded clothing, surprised to see black night and the receding lights of St. Thomas through the open balcony doors. They must have slept for hours.

"How are you feeling, baby?"

"Like I'm wearing the skin of a much smaller person."

Jane quirked an eyebrow.

"That's the worst part of a sunburn, perhaps more that the pain, the feeling of tightness, as if my skin will split open when I move."

"More hydrocephalus cream?"

"No. Aloe, I think." Maura bit her lip. "Jane, I love you, but you must know that hydrocephalus is a condition caused by the impaired reabsorption of cerebrospinal fluid in the ventricles of the brain."

"Can't help yourself, huh?"

The doctor flashed a sheepish smile and pushed herself up onto her elbows, painfully scooting across the mattress until her head rested on Jane's warm thigh. Jane ran slender fingers through the tangled golden locks, smoothing the fine strands against her own tanned skin, momentarily mesmerized by the interplay of copper and wheat, caramel and chestnut.

The pounding began again. "The ship better be sinking or somebody's gonna lose a hand." She gently extracted her leg and stood, wrapping herself in Maura's sarong.

"What?" She opened the door, her best cop glower set on her face, and met the merry eyes of Beata Frankenmeier. The diva filled the stateroom door from floor to ceiling and from jamb to post, wearing a canary yellow halter top and lime green tap pants.

"We heard that Maura was ill, so Coco insisted we visit with my bubbe's patented sunburn cure. It's guaranteed to have that girl of yours back on her feet and dancing by tomorrow or my name isn't Bonnie Lifshitz." She winked at Jane.

"Thanks, Beata. Just give me a minute; Maura's not dressed."

"That's perfectly fine. I've seen naked women before, lots of them. Before I met Coco, I had a girl in every port. Well, at least in every city with a major opera house and an artistic budget big enough to pay my fees."

She strode into the cabin, briefly pinning Jane against the wall as she passed. She was followed by Coco, whom Jane hadn't seen behind her much larger mate. Jane ducked her head out of the door to ensure no one else was waiting in the diva's wake, but the hallway was empty.

"Holy Wotan in Valhalla, will you look at that color! You know, I had to wear a gown once, almost that exact shade of pink. It was in Vienna and I was singing Elsa. Who puts Elsa in a fuchsia gown, really? Anyway it clashed with my hair and my skin, and it wasn't cut to flatter me. The critic at _Kleine Zeitung_ said, 'She sings like Fräulein Frankenmeier, but she looks like Fräulein Piggy.' He retracted his comment the next day after Coco went to see him wearing her ass-kicking boots."

"That's right." Coco agreed.

"But look at that tushie. I don't think I've ever seen a cuter little caboose."

Jane was horrified to see the diva's hand reach out and give three little pats to Maura's right butt cheek.

"I could just bite it." Beata added.

Jane quickly squeezed into the room and draped the bed sheet over the doctor's nude body before the diva could make good on her last statement. "Sorry, Maur," Jane mumbled, but Maura didn't seem to mind. "What's a little gluteus maximus between friends?" she asked Beata.

"Exactly." The big woman pressed herself through the narrow gap around the bed and dropped into Jane's vacated spot, eyeing the flabbergasted detective. "That's not a good look for you, Jane. Some women are just not meant to wear a toga."

"It's a sarong." Maura clarified.

"On you it's a sarong. On Jane it's a toga. Coco, bring my cauldron."

Coco had been standing on the balcony, smoking her cheroot. Now she popped into the room holding a plastic bag. Beata made a big show of removing a styrofoam cup and plastic spork. She sat cross-legged on the bed and began stirring the contents. "Oh how I wish Verdi had written an aria for the witches in _Macbetto_; the roles are wasted on the chorus. This moment just begs for an operatic translation of Shakespeare's words."

"What about Marfa's divination scene from _Khovanshchina_? It's not quite mixing a potion, but she calls on spirits and stands over a bowl…"

"Brava, Maura! Marfa is a mezzo-soprano, but no matter; I have an eight-octave range."

Maura basked in the praise of her idol, as the big woman knelt and spread her arms wide in the air, concentrating her fierce gaze on the styrofoam cup resting on the doctor's ass. She closed her eyes and began singing in a low, thrumming alto, her tone like a very expensive cello. "Sily potajnye, sily velikie, dushi otbyvsie, v mir nevedomyj, k vam vzyvaju!"

Jane felt the hairs on her neck rise. She had no idea what Beata was singing, but she couldn't help the feeling that something was going to come out of that cup, something frightening. She fought the impulse to knock it to the floor. Nobody was going to put that witch's brew on her Maura. The aria ended and Beata broke character, grinning and chortling, her bosom heaving with lusty whoops of laughter. Jane relaxed; it was all an illusion. _Damn, the woman is good._

"What actually is in it?"

"Ah! My grandmother called it 'Schmalz und Essig.'"

"Fat and vinegar." Maura translated. "That's actually a very sound treatment. The vinegar contains acetic acid, which will restore the normal pH of healthy skin, and it has antiseptic properties. The fat is a natural moisturizer. Thank you, Beata, but I'm already employing a very similar two-pronged strategy in the form of…"

Maura's words were cut off as the diva swiped off the bed sheet and in a strikingly graceful move, straddled the smaller woman, hovering a centimeter above her skin without touching it. She dumped the contents of her cup onto Maura's pink back and, using both hands spread out the pungent mess, moving more like she was spackling a wall than applying an ointment.

There was another knock at the door and four pairs of eyes turned in expectation. Jane sighed and opened it. Millie-Joyce pushed her way into the room, her eyes growing wide behind her large glasses as she took in the scene on the bed. "Are we having an orgy? Hot damn! I love a good romp. I haven't had group sex since I retired from professional tennis. You should have seen the women's locker room at Wimbledon back in the day. _Backhand_ and _forehand_ have a very different meaning off the court."

"Sorry to pop your tennis ball, but this is a medical treatment." Beata duck-walked backwards down the bed, spreading her goo haphazardly down Maura's burned legs. "Alas, Coco and I are boringly bourgeois and monogamous."

"That's right." Coco seconded from the balcony.

Millie-Joyce turned to Jane and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Uh, no. Maur and I are also very boudoir and we only sleep with each other." _Or at least we will, if everyone would get the fuck out. _

"I stopped by to check on you. You two high-tailed it off the beach so quickly that you missed the lobster lunch and Beata's timeless rendition of_ Rock Lobster."_

"No worries, Jane, I have it on my set list for the Gayty Eighties Beach Party tomorrow; you'll hear it then." The diva had finished her medical treatment and gestured that she wanted to wash her hands. Both Jane and Millie-Joyce had to leave the stateroom to let her pass. When she returned she was holding Jane's prize-winning dildo in her hand. "Someone was having a little fun in the bathroom."

Jane flushed. "Uh, no. I…I just left it there after I cleaned the doughnut goo off of it."

"Ah…_doughnut goo_; is that what we're calling it these days?"

Millie-Joyce had taken advantage of Beata's absence to press her way further into the room and recline on the bed next to Maura. She absent-mindedly ran a finger down the doctor's spine. "Sunburn. Hmm, and here I thought you two ran away to gobble each other's titties after the festivities. There was a lot of ta-ta tasting and ninny nibbling on this boat after that wet T-shirt contest. Lots of jug thumping and breast bumping, purple nurples and nippy lippies, mammary guzzling and nannette nuzzling…." The tennis legend was working herself up into one of her frenzies; sweat beaded her brow and her glasses fogged up. "…boobie burping and torpedo slurping, wah-wah licking and cha-cha flicking …" Each phrase was punctuated by a soft tap to the doctor's bare hip.

Maura snorted and buried her face in her pillow, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Jane picked up the discarded bed sheet and covered her once again. She had waited years to see her beloved naked and still had yet to touch her, and here were all these near-strangers feasting their eyes on Maura's curves and caressing her at will. "You find this funny, Maur?"

"Yes. You know I can't resist word play."

Jane softened; Maura's goofy fit of giggles was endearing.

"…honker squeezin' and gazonga pleasin', bosom slappin' and airbag lappin'…"

"Somebody had better throw a pail of water on her before she explodes." Beata warned. The frenetic energy that had won countless tennis matches and could still rile up a crowd to a near riot was a bit over the top for a tiny cabin and an audience of four. Jane was only too happy to fill a paper cup with tap water and toss it over Millie-Joyce's head.

"Blllurrrrrrgh." She spluttered. "Thank you, Jane. I needed that."

There was a tentative knock at the door. Jane rolled her eyes, but opened it. Carla Timmons stood in the doorway. "I heard you were two were cabin bound, so I brought some beer."

"Fine. Come in, if you can find room."

"Good evening, Carla. Where's your friend?" The doctor asked.

"She dumped my ass, said I was a little too interested in other women's breasts this afternoon. I was just trying to do a good job."

"Ah, Dryden said that jealousy is the jaundice of the soul."

"Weren't you a little jealous to see Jane feel up all those hot ladies?"

"Not a bit."

"Um, Maura…" The little policewoman blushed. "…not that I'm complaining, but I can totally see your nip."

Maura shifted on her belly, tucking one stubborn breast under her. "Jane, I have to pee and I'm very hungry."

"Oh. Okay. Do you feel up to the buffet or…"

"Room service!" Beata declared. "I'll call and order a few party platters. This is turning into a fete after all."

Jane approached the bed and helped Maura to sit. "Ming, keep your eyes to yourself." She raised a cautionary finger to Millie-Joyce who was sitting up in bed and polishing her glasses, no doubt to get a clearer look at Maura's rack. "You too, Carl. You know what, everyone on the balcony. Now. All right, baby. Stand up and I got you."

"Can you sit on the toilet?"

"Yes. I'm fine, Jane."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, stay. This is the happiest day of my life; I have you and friends." She beamed up at Jane, all dimples and shining eyes and raw red nose. She began to pee and Jane thought she'd never seen anything cuter. She crouched in front of the doctor and took her upper lip between both of her own, drawing it gently into her mouth, tracing its bow with the tip of her tongue. Maura leaned into the kiss, allowing their tongues to barely graze each other. Jane shuddered and braced herself against the tiled wall. She'd never kissed like this before, so achingly slow and tender, caring more about her partner's pleasure than her own, wanting to speak the love in her heart through the delicate movements of her mouth.

Carl knocked on the door once and stuck her head in. "Jesus, you two. Get a room!"

"We have one, but you're in it."

"Right you are, my queen."

"What do you want, Carl?" Jane glared at her.

"Um, Maura, I know you don't drink beer. Can I order something else for you?"

"No thank you. Alcohol consumption increases the risk of dehydration and impedes the healing process. You can get me a few bottles of mineral water, if it's not too much trouble."

"You got it." She withdrew and closed the door.

"Best kiss of my life and you're sitting on the toilet."

Maura chuckled. "Just you wait, Jane Rizzoli."

Jane wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the woman she loved, she leaned in again for one more sweet kiss before pulling away with a groan. "I guess we should go back."

"I guess so."

"Do you need me to…uh, wipe you?"

"Absolutely not." Maura blushed, her cheeks nearly matching the red of her nose. "I don't want the first time you touch me to be for that."

"Right…when I touch you." _Oh God._

When they returned to the room their four guests were sprawled on the bed, an ice-chest full of beer open in the center of the mattress.

"Up, lesbians. Maura needs her rest. You wanna lie on your stomach again, babe?"

"I think I'd better."

"Let's play a game." Carl suggested.

"I love games. Help me turn around, Jane. I want my head where my feet are so I can see everyone."

Beata lifted and turned her almost before the words were out of her mouth. "What shall we play?"

"Spin the Bottle." Millie-Joyce declared, hoisting her half-empty Heineken.

"Eww, no. What are we, 12 year olds in our parents' basement?"

"I never played Spin the Bottle, Jane. Is it a card game? I'm not very good at cards, but I'm a fast learner."

"No, it's not a card game. It's a stupid, preteen sex game. You literally spin an empty bottle and whoever the open end points to, you have to kiss."

"Oh. I only want to kiss you, so maybe we could play that later when we're alone."

"Exactly."

"We could play anagrams." The doctor proposed. "Susie and I have a running score in the morgue. Whenever one of us cannot decipher the logograph by the close of business, the other earns one point. For example, I may say, 'SC Chang, I have a patient named _Chris Oris_, a _sir so_ _rich_ that he died of….'"

Five pairs of blank eyes stared at her.

"Cirrhosis." Maura fell into a fit of giggles. "He died of cirrhosis. Get it?"

"No." Everyone agreed.

"Okay. Give me a minute." She snorted and wiped a tear from her eye. "Here's an easier one. This disease snuck up on him like _a pristine cat _and stabbed him in the side like _a titanic spear_."

She looked eagerly from face to face. "Pancreatitis!"

"I don't understand." Carl frowned.

"You take a word or several words and change the letters to make other words. Sometimes a person's name can be rearranged in a manner that sheds light on their personality. Jane Rizzoli, you are a _jazzier lion_. Or two names together can say a lot about their relationship. Coco, what's your last name?"

"Ogawa." Beata answered for her. "She's of Japanese descent."

"That's right." Coco nodded.

Maura thought a moment. "Together you are a _Wagnerian foe maker_. Isn't that perfect?"

"It is." Beata agreed. "I may use that in my next interview, but Maura, I don't think any of us has the type of mind to compete with you in this particular game. Might I suggest Truth or Dare?"

"Sure. Is that a card game?"

"No, it's a terrible game and one that I think you and I should definitely avoid." Jane gave her a meaningful look.

"Why? Is it very vigorous? I can't move too well right now."

Jane growled in frustration.

"Au contraire." Beata explained. "When it is your turn, you may choose to answer a question or perform an act, but you must answer with perfect truthfulness, whatever is asked, and you cannot decline the act no matter how embarrassing or ill-conceived it may be."

"I physically cannot lie, so this game should be the perfect fit for me."

"Maura…" Jane warned. "You may be asked things you don't want to answer."

The doctor shrugged.

"I'll begin because I'm the tallest." Beata lay a hand across her breasts.

"No you're not." Jane groused. "Your hair is the tallest. Pull out your driver's license, Frankenmeier, I bet I have half an inch on you."

"For someone who didn't want to play, you certainly are very competitive, Jane."

"Fine, just go first. I'll be the bigger person."

Beata smiled angelically, reclining against the stack of pillows on Jane's side of the bed. She examined her fingernails and took a long swig of her beer, feigning complete disinterest in her target. Finally she raised her eyes and turned them slowly toward Carl.

"Carlotta, darling, truth or dare?"

"Dare. Definitely a dare. Make it a good one."

"Carla Timmons, I dare you to kiss Jane on the lips."

Jane rolled her eyes. "How is this different from Spin the Bottle? It seems just as juvenile."

Carl approached and poked the taller woman in the arm. There was a foot difference in height and Jane had to bend her knees to put her lips within reach. Carl pressed her mouth against them for less than a second and it was over. "Are you jealous now, Maura?"

"Not at all."

"That was about as exciting as kissing one of my little brothers. This game sucks." Jane groused.

"Jane, take a truth."

"Fine. Your dares are lame and loserish." Her heart beat doubled. _Please don't ask about my sex life with Maura._

Carl studied her carefully and then burst out laughing. "Jane, have you ever slept with a man?"

"Duh. Of course."

"No way! I call you out on a lie."

"She's not lying." Maura stated. "Jane slept with men exclusively…um, when we met."

The unlit cheroot slipped from Coco's astonished mouth. Beata roared and Millie-Joyce howled.

"I don't believe it. I can't picture Jane under some pumping man."

"I would have pegged you as a gold star, Jane."

"The fuck is that?"

Beata raised her penciled-in eyebrows in astonishment. "A gold star is a lesbian who has never slept with a man. My Coco is a gold star."

"That's right." Coco bowed, a proud grin on her handsome face.

"Me too." Carl added. "No guy has ever stuck it in me."

"Did you like it?" Millie-Joyce asked in all seriousness.

Jane thought a moment and answered truthfully. "No, not one bit."

Everyone laughed.

"Coco, truth or dare?" Carl asked.

"Wait, it's Jane's turn."

Carl pouted.

"Oh go ahead, you big baby."

Carl asked again. "Coco, my fellow gold star, what's it gonna be?"

"She's forceful and dynamic. She'll definitely take a dare." Beata answered.

"That's right."

"I dare you…" Carl scrunched up her face in thought. "…I dare you to put on one of Maura's dresses…the red number that she wore to Led Zeppelin last night and the matching shoes."

Maura clapped her hands. "A dare and a fashion show all in one. I like this game. Jane, get the Herve Léger from the armoire and the shoes."

"That wasn't as funny as I thought it would be." Carl frowned when Coco emerged from the bathroom in the dress that hugged all of the doctor's curves, but hung off of Coco's angles.

Maura took three truths in a row, admitting that she had slept with three women, a fact that made Jane's hackles rise; that she had lost her virginity at 20 to that Fairfield douche; and most surprisingly to her beloved, that it was Jane's mother who had facilitated their relationship when she told Maura that Jane was in love with her.

Jane had held her breath every time Maura's name was called, so afraid that something would be asked about their sex life and that the honest doctor would answer that they had none…yet.

The detective knocked back her third Corona of the evening and popped another pig-in-a-blanket into her mouth. "I'll take a dare." She looked to Maura, but the doctor was busy making her way through a plate of jalapeño poppers and mini-quiche. "Don't make it sexual, Ming, a dare should be, well,…daring."

"I dare you to hang off the balcony for 10 seconds."

Maura's eyes shot up. "Absolutely not, Jane. With your damaged hands and the fact that you've been drinking for the past hour, this is a terrible idea. A fall could kill you."

"Sorry, babe, but a dare's a dare." She put down her empty bottle and strode onto the balcony, avoiding Maura's gaze; if she read fear or hurt there, she would have to back down and lose face. She didn't want to do it, would have, in fact, preferred to kiss Carl again or even Coco, but how could Jane Rizzoli, Queen of All Lesbians, refuse the very daring dare she had requested? _Stupid ass, Rizzoli, with your big mouth. _She wished she had stuck to mineral water in solidarity with Maura.

"Jane! Please."

She didn't turn around, but swung her long legs over the glass barrier and took a deep breath. "Who's gonna count?"

The other women were soon in front of her, pressed tight onto the tiny verandah. Maura appeared behind them, wrapped in the bed sheet.

"Don't worry, Maura, if she starts to slip, I'll haul her back over." Beata pushed her way to the front and placed one large hand on each of Jane's biceps.

Jane took one more steadying breath, filling her lungs with tangy sea air, flexed her fingers and dropped. _This isn't so bad, Rizzoli. You're at the gym with Frost. He's running right next to you on the treadmill and Korsak is sitting on the weight bench eating a Ding Dong. The floor is six inches under your feet. Hang for ten and do a quick chin-up. No problem._

Millie-Joyce began counting. "One Martina Navratilova, two Martina Navratilova, three…"

It was cooler out here; spray blew up from the sea as the quickly moving ship sliced through the waves and it stung Jane's bare legs.

"Four Martina Navratilova, five…"

A salty breeze tore at Jane's sarong and she fought the impulse to reach out a hand to pull it back around her shoulders. The wind died down and then gusted briefly. The green fabric came free and sailed away into the dark. Jane hung naked and shivering ten decks above the black water.

"Pull her up, Beata, please." Maura pleaded above her.

"No." Jane growled.

"Six Martina Navtilova, seven Martina Navlova, eight." Millie-Joyce was counting quicker now, the long Czech name losing a syllable each time in Millie-Joyce's haste.

Jane's hands began to ache, not the usual daily pain, dull and expected, but sharper and shooting like the coldest day in Boston or the weeks right after her injury. She shifted her grip slightly. Beata noticed and immediately tightened her hold on Jane's upper arms.

"Nine Martina, ten. Pull her up."

The diva's warm breath ruffled her hair. "Let go, Jane."

"No way."

"Let go. I have you."

She held tighter, but was lifted despite her protests, up and over the railing as easily as if she were a child. Coco wrapped a blanket over her shoulders and pushed her towards the doctor.

"Jane, you're a complete idiot."

_Please don't let her be crying. _She opened her eyes, which she had squeezed tightly shut once she lost her garment. The hazel eyes she met were narrowed in anger, not hurt. _Good. _Then they softened and Maura fell into her arms. She wrapped her own arms around the petite woman, forgetting all about the sunburn. The doctor flinched at the contact, but only clung tighter to Jane's bare chest. "I just got you, Jane. I don't want to lose you. Don't ever do something reckless like that again."

"I won't. I'm sorry, Maura."

The party broke up soon after. Their friends left the pair lying in their bed, Maura's head on her detective's shoulder rubbing the stiffness from her sore hands.

"Jane, you scared me."

"I scared myself." She kissed a pink ear and moved her lips to the baby-soft skin behind it. "I never want to hurt you, Maura, I only want to make you feel safe and loved." She sighed. "Here on the very first day I fucked up."

Maura pulled back to look into repentant brown eyes. "Yes, you did, but I don't love you any less. Just remember that you carry my heart in your hands, and I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't trust you."

"I'll remember. I remember everything, Maura. Every moment we've spent together, every conversation we've had. I'd lie in bed at night and replay it all, looking for things you may have said, counting the little touches, your smiles, the way you tilt your head when you don't quite get something. I'd comb through it all looking for anything to hold onto…some hope in a hopeless situation."

"It was never hopeless. I've been in love with you for years."

Jane shook her head. "How?"

Maura sighed. "Jane, I always thought you were gay."

"Really?"

"Yes. I imagine that even at the start of our friendship, I had in my mind that someday there might be something more."

Jane was stunned. She leaned back against the pillows and exhaled heavily. "Well I guess I'm gay now."

Maura chuckled. "Do you remember that first time you invited me to your house? You were still living with your parents in the North End."

"Yeah. Don't remind me. I was a 30-something loser with my own cool pad in my parents' basement. I was so embarrassed, but I wanted to spend time with you."

"I did notice that within the month you had moved into your own 'cool pad' in Charlestown."

"I saw myself through your eyes and thought it was time, way past time, to move out."

"That move gave me so much hope. I thought that maybe you wanted some privacy so we could be together."

"Argh. Why didn't you say something?" Jane pulled her hands through her messy hair.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you were always going out with some big, swinging cock. I was afraid you'd be grossed out and then I'd lose your friendship."

"That's not fair, Jane. I never had one single serious relationship the entire time I've known you."

"But you've had sex with men." Jane whined.

"So have you."

"But I didn't like it." Jane pouted.

"So you knew you were gay." Maura smirked.

"Just for you."

"That's very unlikely, Jane. Sexual orientation is hard-wired at puberty or even earlier. While women do have a more fluid sexuality, I can't imagine the thought never crossed your mind until you met me in your mid-thirties."

Jane drew her eyebrows together. "It crossed my mind, but I didn't dwell on it."

"Ha! Now we're getting somewhere. As I was saying earlier, I remember your parents' house very well. You had a single bed in a room filled with all sorts of sporting paraphernalia and a framed photo of a lesbian in a black leather catsuit."

"What?…Oh, my Leather Tuscadero picture, autographed by Suzi Quatro. It said, 'Keep Rockin' Love, Suzi.'"

"Yes. I saw that photo and my heart sang."

"What did it sing?"

"It sang, 'Lesbian.'" Maura trilled.

Jane snorted. "Well, that was my teenage bedroom. My big-girl room was in the basement, and I had a very adult futon and framed Georgia O'Keeffe prints on the walls."

"O'Keeffe's flowers are notoriously vaginal. I remember lying awake one night while you snored next to me. I tried counting backwards from ten thousand in Russian, which usually works, but it didn't that night; I must have been especially concupiscent. Then I decided to rename your O'Keeffe prints according to what they really looked like. _Jack in the Pulpit_ became _Jane's Dark Vulva_, _Oak Leaves Pink & Gray_ was _The Folds of her Labia_, _Red Hills, Grey Sky _became _Clitoris at Rest_ and _Series I, No. 4 _ was _Cresting Clitoris_."

"Grrrr. Fine, Maura. I was just a big closet case waiting to break out."

"That was my hypothesis, but you were always so sensitive about it. I never felt comfortable broaching the subject."

"That was sarcasm."

Maura shrugged and shifted back onto her belly with a soft hiss. The bed was a mess, stained with the unguent that Beata had liberally slopped all over her as well as the residue of six adults drinking and eating hors d'oeuvres. "These crumbs feel like a sheet of sandpaper against my skin."

"You're like the princess and the pea; I don't feel anything. But I'd be glad to shake out the sheets for you."

"No, I'll suffer in silence, just like I did for years watching you date men that I knew you didn't love."

Jane laughed. "Oh, Maura, I felt the same way. This is ridiculous. If you'd only mentioned that you swung both ways, I would have made a move years ago."

"You would not, Jane." She began counting on her fingers. "I subscribe to _The Advocate_, I'm on the board of half a dozen LBGTQ nonprofits, I drive a hybrid, never had a boyfriend in the six years we've been friends. I don't know what else I could have done to let you know. How many times have I held your hand or sat in your lap or slept with you in my bed or yours?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what? I've attended every one of your family functions with you; weddings, baptisms, that strange bachelorette party in Atlantic City for your cousin Cookie, not to mention Rizzoli family dinner every Sunday. Your mother knew. She dropped hints for years, and last weekend she told me to go on vacation with you and work this out."

"I can't believe it." Jane shook her head.

The doctor continued. "I've been your date for every work party and award ceremony, stood by your side at police funerals… I'm certain at least half of the BPD thinks we're a couple and the other half just isn't sure. I'm quite certain that Susie Chang's strange behavior whenever you're in the morgue is due to her assumption that we're doing it. She's never so meek and nervous when it's just she and I alone."

Jane was nearly speechless, she gazed out the glass doors into the star-filled night sky. The same stars that appeared dim and underwhelming in Boston glowed bright and startling here and each brought a scattering of friends with them.

"I guess I wasn't ready." She whispered.

"I know that, Jane, and that's why I waited for you. If this vacation never happened, I'd still be waiting."

"I'm sorry…"

"I'm not. You will always be my best friend and I don't regret a moment we've spent together. It's all led to here."

Maura dropped her head to the detective's chest with a sigh. She began drawing random patterns across Jane's abdomen with the tips of her fingers, circles around the shallow navel that turned to ellipses and ovals over the tight oblique muscles of Jane's flanks and swirling figure eights that doubled back upon themselves as she traced the hidden contour of the inguinal ligament below a prominent hipbone to where it disappeared into a thick thatch of sable curls. "My beautiful black tigress." She murmured.

"I thought I was a jazzy lion?" Jane tried to joke, but her stuttered breath and quickened heartbeat under Maura's ear gave her away.

"You are. You're a jungle cat, lean and graceful."

"I've never been called graceful before. You've seen me dance. In fact…" Her words were cut off as the doctor began sliding those soft fingers down the insides of her thighs, as far as she could reach without stretching her burned skin. Jane's muscles twitched under her hand.

"The gracilis muscle…" She mumbled against the detective's chest. "This runs from your pelvis to your knee." She traced its path. "It's often harvested for use in vaginal reconstructive surgery."

Jane snorted. Leave it to Maura to move seamlessly from sensual and seductive to clinical and icky.

"Sorry."

"No, babe, don't be. I love all your geeky nerdified ways. It's what makes you you."

Maura continued, mollified. "Your gracilis is especially graceful, Jane. Give me another day to heal and I'll trace it all the way down…with my mouth."

Jane swallowed hard. "Okay."

Maura brushed her fingertips through the lustrous dark hair below Jane's navel. _A puma._ She thought. _No, a panther._

She raised herself onto one knee and shifted her weight onto Jane's thigh.

"Maura…what…what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make this work, but I'm not especially limber today. I definitely have to be on top…"

"We don't need to do this now. I mean, I want to… I've been dreaming of this, but let's wait. Make yourself comfortable and get better. We've waited for six years, what's another day?"

The doctor slid back onto her belly, leaving Jane a slick, wet memento of her desire on her thigh.

"You're right. I think I'm just afraid that I'm going to wake up and you're going to take it back, say this was a mistake or that you will be ashamed to love me when we're back in Boston…"

"Never. I promise, Maura. I love you. I am in love with you and that is never going to change. I marched through Disney World in a dyke T-shirt holding your hand. I will ride a rainbow unicorn down Boylston Street with my triathlon-winning dildo strapped to my forehead if it would make you happy. I love you and you're stuck with me."

"About that dildo…" Maura grinned up at her.

"Maur, I think I want to learn to please you with what I was born with before we start adding special effects. That dildo is advanced placement lesbianism, I'm still in basic training. Besides, I would have to ask Beata to stop in and strap it on me; those buckles are more complicated than a Rubik's cube."

"I think I could figure it out, Jane. I am a genius. But that wasn't where I was headed. I spoke with my mother this afternoon. I needed a little reassurance about… us."

"From Constance?" Jane snorted.

"Yes. Mother is never afraid to speak her mind. She was unequivocal in her opinion that you were as smitten with me as I am with you."

Jane immediately softened her appraisal of the elder Dr. Isles. "I always liked Constance." She said.

"I asked mother for advice and she told me to get naked, tell you how I felt, and then kiss you."

Jane grimaced. "So you deliberately burned yourself to a crisp so you'd have an excuse to get naked?"

"No, of course not, it just worked out that way. I was plotting my seduction strategy when I inadvertently fell asleep on my chaise lounge. My original plan was to return to the room and send you on an errand, perhaps a trip upstairs to your beloved buffet for a plate of fruit. While you were gone I had planned to disrobe, attach the phallus to my person, and wait for you atop the bed covers."

"Really?" Jane squeaked. "Constance suggested that scenario?"

Maura nodded. "Not in quite that elaborate detail, but her suggestion led me to it. What would you have done?"

"I…I don't know. Probably I would have dropped your fruit plate."

"And run away?"

"No."

"In my fantasy, you slowly approach the bed and I whisper, 'I love you, Jane.' You tell me that you feel the same and we kiss, slowly at first…"

"Like this?" Jane bent her head and touched her parted lips to Maura's.

"Mmm-hmm." They kissed softly, tongues barely caressing each other.

"What happens next?"

"You undress."

"Done."

"And then you feed me a strawberry from your mouth."

Jane looked around, but the only food in the room was a half-eaten plate of pigs-in-blankets and a picked-over Caesar salad.

"I take a bite of the strawberry and the juice runs down my chin. You lick it."

Jane flicked her tongue up the doctor's neck, over her chin and across her lips. "Next?"

"We kiss some more…deeper."

Jane was crazed, unable to put her hands on Maura, to pull her closer. She settled for twisting her fingers in golden tresses.

"Then what happens?"

Maura drew back, flushed and panting. "You'll have to wait to see."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for keeping with me. Our lovebirds will land in St. Martin very soon.


	8. Chapter 8

"Babe, you smell like the all-you-can-eat salad bowl at Olive Garden."

"That's good, Jane. You love Olive Garden. I feel better this morning."

Jane smiled and inched closer to the small figure under the grease-stained bed sheet. "Do you feel like dancing? Beata's grannie's goop was supposed to have you dancing by today."

"No, but I think I can probably walk and…"

"And?" Jane arched an eyebrow.

Maura chuckled. "And take a shower. Care to join me?"

"Of course. Gimme a minute to move your luggage, Miss Daisy."

Jane stood and stretched, flexing her tight shoulders and hands. The ship had docked in Philipsburg, St. Maarten and the view from the small balcony was astonishing: an expanse of calm water as clear and blue as a swimming pool, ringed by white sand beaches and studded with yachts, some big enough to be mistaken for small cruise ships.

"Wow. You gotta see this, Maur."

The doctor slowly made her way out of bed, moaning when she flexed the burned skin behind her knees.

"If this isn't paradise, then it doesn't exist. Look at those ships."

"Yes. I've been here before on a private boat very similar to that one." She pointed toward a white-hulled luxury yacht that Jane figured must be nearly as long as a football field.

Jane whistled and then frowned. "Were you dating some billionaire douchebag? Maybe a Saudi prince?"

"No." The doctor smiled. "There are no Saudi princes in my past or exotic billionaires for that matter. I was 14 and it belonged to a friend of my father's. We were on one of our rare family vacations."

"So I guess you spent your time sunbathing on that massive deck and driving the locals crazy."

Maura snorted. "Hardly. I was chubby and pasty with frizzy hair and a very unfortunate orthodontic appliance that I wore with rubber straps around the back of my head. I spent the vacation collecting specimens, mostly pieces of seaweed and flotsam, that I catalogued back in my room. I was a very late bloomer."

"Me too. Did you have acne?"

"No, I was spared that one particular indignity."

"Well, I had enough for both of us and a massive unibrow."

Maura shook her head. "What a pair we would have made. Do you think we would have been friends?"

"I'm sure of it." Jane kissed the mussed part of her hair. "Are you ready for that shower?"

"Just give me a minute in the bathroom."

"Do you need help?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Ah, code 10-100."

Maura smirked. "Code 10-privacy, Jane."

"Gotcha."

Jane stood contemplating the crystal sea. Now in the bright sunlight the distance from the balcony to the waterline seemed enormous, at least 100 feet, maybe more. Maura was right, she might not have survived such a fall without serious injury. When she factored in the speed of the ship, the dark of the night, the wind and waves, she shuddered. If Beata hadn't been there, no way could she have hoisted herself back up and over the railing. _Fuckin__' __idiot, Rizzoli. Never again._

Passengers were streaming down the gangway, posing for pictures with cruise staff dressed as pirates and tropical birds. Speakers set up next to an excursion table played popular dance music and a group of women were doing the electric slide under the shade of a palm grove. One woman shaded her eyes and pointed up at the ship. Jane quickly ducked back into the cabin, suddenly aware of her nakedness.

Maura poked her head out of the bathroom. "Ready?"

The shower was small, clearly constructed for only one bather to efficiently clean what needed to be cleaned and nothing more. Jane entered first and turned on the water. The faucets were counterintuitive with temperature markings in Celsius. Jane had learned that the hard way when she turned up the heat as far as it would go to 50° and nearly scalded herself. She wanted to make sure the heat would not be too much on Maura's burned skin.

"Babe, what's a comfortable temperature for you? Coldish?"

"Lukewarm is fine, Jane."

Jane stood under the spray, the cool water sluiced down her lean body and hardened her nipples. Maura watched her, transfixed. The wild black mane hung damp and straight over strong shoulders and her abdominal muscles twitched and rippled as she fine-tuned the water pressure.

"Okay, Maur." She turned with a shy smile and extended her hand.

Maura stepped in and molded herself to the long, tan body. They fit together perfectly, Maura's full breasts snug against the hardness of Jane's sternum. She lifted her head and kissed the dimple in the detective's chin and then the full lower lip above it. Jane leaned into the kiss, deepening it. She tasted the faint cinnamon of Maura's toothpaste in her mouth and lost herself to the warmth of a velvety tongue sliding softly against her own.

"You're shaking, Jane. Is the water too cold for you?"

"No. I'm excited and nervous."

"I am too, but a good nervous."

"Yeah, it's all good. Can I…touch you?"

"Of course. Just, be careful of my back."

Jane ran her lips down the Maura's ivory neck. "I've dreamed of this neck." She kissed a trail across a prominent collar bone, lingering over the deep notch at the base of Maura's throat. She lapped at the indent, tasting sweet water. "And I've dreamed of this throat." Moving her mouth lower, she traced a trail of freckles across Maura's sternum, counting and kissing each one until she was dizzy with joy and lost her place. She began again, following the freckles with her tongue until they disappeared into the unmarred white of Maura's breasts. She hesitated, looking up. Maura smiled into the questioning brown eyes. "Go ahead, Jane."

Jane ran trembling hands across Maura's breasts, her palms just grazing the tight pink nipples. Maura sighed softly above her. She cradled the weight of the them in her hands, reverently, lovingly. She dropped to her knees in the cramped space and placed the softest of kisses on the side of each areola, before resting her head against a firm white belly, completely overcome with emotion.

"Jane." Maura whispered, smoothing her hands through wet black locks. "Come, love, let me wash your hair."

* * *

><p>Jane pulled on shorts and a Patriots T-shirt, her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back, already curling and snarling despite the low humidity in the air-conditioned stateroom. Maura was pacing in her peacock blue panties in front of the armoire.<p>

"I have nothing to wear."

Jane snorted. "The five hundred suitcases on the balcony beg to differ."

"I mean I have nothing to wear that won't rip the skin from my back."

"The next time we go on vacation, I'm going to buy you one of those black tents with the eye slits that women wear in the middle east."

"A burka?"

"Whatever it's called. It will keep the sun off of your sensitive skin."

"Then I can collapse from heat induced hyperpyrexia instead of erythema solare."

"Google away, lovebug. Why don't you wear your scrubs?"

Maura turned from the armoire, her red nose wrinkled in disdain. "I can't wear that to a French town."

"Sure you can. Just jazz it up a little with a scarf or a belt and carry yourself like it's the latest trend from the continent. These tourists and islanders won't know. They'll think, 'Ooo la la, so chic. Where can we buy such a booo-ti-ful blue pantsoir?'"

Maura giggled. "I really don't have much of a choice, and I won't be able to wear a bra."

"Do you want some of that fancy duct tape to hold up the girls?"

"Yes. I think I have one set of adhesive brassieres left. Unless…you want to walk behind me and hold them up." She quirked a suggestive eyebrow.

"Uh, where did you put that package?"

It was so easy to make Jane blush and stammer. She was as soft and tender-hearted on the inside as she was fierce and tough of the out. To cover her embarrassment, she squatted in front of the cabin door, feigning interest in the latest copy of the "Sappho's Sheet" newsletter.

"Ship sails at 6:00."

"What are you supposed to be doing today?"

"I'm not even going to look. Today is our day." She stood and tore the newsletter in half, tossing it into the trash.

"How are we going to get off the boat without attracting a large crowd of your followers?"

"Leave that to me."

"Maybe we should go in disguise."

"Yeah, a six-foot brunette and her sunburned sidekick will be very easy to camouflage."

"Why am I the sidekick?"

"Because I…" Jane thumped her chest. "…am the Queen of All Lesbians."

Maura couldn't argue with that logic. "You could wear the scrubs and a hat and push me out on a stretcher."

Jane laughed. "That's a bit elaborate. We're going to hide in plain sight. Just stroll off the boat and disappear. You have everything you need?"

"Yes."

"C'mon." Jane took her hand and they walked down the hall and to the elevator.

A dozen women crowded on with them. "Queen Jane, you going to the beach party?"

"You bet." She winked.

On the fourth deck they made their way to the gangway and onto the pier.

"You on your way to the beach, Jane?" Someone shouted from the crowd milling around the excursion tent.

"Yup."

"Can't wait to see what you do today." Another voice called.

"Me too. It should be a blast."

They waved and greeted everyone walking toward the ferry to Philipsburg. They waited in line for the ferry, and after everyone boarded, Jane turned and strode away toward the cab stand.

She held the taxi door for Maura and climbed in behind her. "Take us to the French side, please, and if anyone asks, you never saw us."

Marigot, St. Martin was as different from the Dutch city of Philipsburg as Boston was from Miami. It was quieter and less tourist-oriented with narrow streets lined with small shops and cafés, open-air markets, and shaded alcoves where one could rest, sip a coffee, and watch the world go by. They walked, hand in hand, past rows of brightly painted homes, sunshine yellow and azure, violet and kelly green. Vibrantly colored lattice-work porches decorated private villas as well as the plethora of restaurants and bistros. The only uniformity was the orange-red tile roofs that topped each building.

"Jane, I feel like I'm in an impressionist painting. It's beautiful here, like Provence brought to the Caribbean."

"If you say so, Maur, it looks nothing like Rhode Island to me."

"Not Providence, Provence, which is an area in southern France…"

"I know, baby, I'm just teasing you. Sometimes I play dumber than I am because you're so cute when you go all nerdy and professorial." She squeezed the doctor's soft hand.

Maura shook her head. "We'll see, Jane Rizzoli. Now that I'm on to your tricks, you'll have a harder time fooling me."

"No I won't." Jane smiled. "How do you feel?"

"A bit tight and scratchy from the cab ride."

"Do you want to duck into a restroom for a quick aloe rub?"

"No, maybe after lunch."

"Lunch, yay! I didn't even have breakfast today. At the rate we're going I'll wind up losing five to seven pounds instead of gaining them on this cruise."

"Shopping first. We need to pick up something nice for your mother. If it weren't for Angela…"

"I know. I know. I bought her a keychain at Disney and a coffee mug in St. Thomas, but she deserves the best. I feel terrible when I think of her sitting in Boston while we're in paradise."

"It's what she wanted, Jane. She planned and carried out an elaborate ruse to get us together." She stood on her toes and planted a kiss on Jane's nose. "We'll take her someplace nice, maybe Paris."

"Let's wait until your mother is there too, then we can ditch them and they'll have each other for company."

Maura wandered happily among the high-end shops along Rue du Charles de Gaulle. Shopping was as much a balm to her burned skin as aloe. Jane toddled behind her, grousing about her empty belly, how bored she was, and how they couldn't possibly fit anything else in the doctor's overburdened suitcases. She showed interest only when they passed a restaurant or bakery; she'd press her nose to the glass and moan or suck in her cheeks and feign death by starvation.

"Maura, I'm hungry. I can't go on. If I had a salt shaker, I'd eat my own arm. I'm so thirsty, I've been living on nothing but my own spit since we woke up. If I don't get something to eat soon, I can't be held responsible if someone's little dog goes missing."

The doctor would just chuckle and hand off her latest package, limping quickly into the next store. "Jane." She popped her head out of the gaudy Cartier showroom. "Come in for a minute. I need your opinion."

"Unless they're serving crepes and chocolate, I really have no interest." She grumbled, but followed her girlfriend into the air-conditioned depths of the staid jewelry store.

"What do you think of this?" Maura held up a gold and platinum watch with a mother of pearl face.

Jane shrugged. "It's nice."

"For your mother."

Jane looked closer. "Is that the price?"

"Yes, in Euro."

"Phew. I almost fainted. What's that in dollars?"

Maura flipped over the tag, revealing a number significantly higher.

"No, just no."

"But Jane, it's a Ballon Bleu. It's a steal at this price."

"My mother doesn't need a six thousand dollar watch. She would die if she knew how much it cost. She would be afraid to wear it, afraid to keep it in her house. I know you mean well, but just trust me. We'll take her out to dinner, bring her on our next vacation, and I plan on buying her a new car, well a newer car, a decent, pre-owned SUV when we get back to Boston. She doesn't need Cartier, Chevy is much more her speed."

"But I want to do something for her."

"Buy her a Timex. I saw one at the Duty Free on the ship for a hundred bucks. She'll be thrilled."

She took the pouting doctor by the arm and led her back out onto the cobblestoned sidewalk.

"Can we eat now?"

"Soon. Let's work up an appetite first."

Jane blanched. "Where?"

Maura pointed above them where a crumbled ruin was just visible, perched on a hill overlooking the harbor.

"You want to fool around up there? Where anyone could stumble along and see us?"

"No. I just want to hike up there and see the old fort. I haven't been there in 26 years, but I remember the view was stunning.

Jane shaded her eyes and gazed up at the ruined fort and the tri-color French flag that billowed in the breeze above it.

"You sure you want to do this, Maur? I think the climb will be worse that it looks from down here."

"The view will be worth it. I promise. And there's a stairway so I can rest if my legs start to hurt."

Jane dropped to the grassy ground in front of a heavy iron cannon, she leaned against it and sipped greedily from her water bottle. Maura walked the perimeter of the crumbling stone foundation, reading the placards and filling her giant brain with more useless historical data. The detective glanced around her, taking in fallen battlements, rusted cannons and the unimpeded vista of the surrounding sea and islands. It told her all she needed to know; _old fort, good spot, strategic defense, don__'__t need it anymore. _Maura thrived on dates and names while she concentrated on the big picture. They were a good match, Jane decided.

"Babe, c'mere." Maura appeared beside her, slowly and painfully lowering herself to the ground.

"My scrubs really scratched up the back of my legs during the climb."

"I'll buy you some fancy silk stockings at the Frenchie market."

"That's not a bad idea."

Jane dug through her backpack and pulled out sunscreen and zinc oxide. "Time to reapply. This may not be the beach, but you're still under the tropical sun."

"Right." Maura dipped a finger into the zinc jar and painted her red nose a bright white. "Good?"

"Beautiful." Jane smiled. "Drink some water."

Maura drank and pointed across the circular marina to the long, narrow island beyond. "That's Anguilla. The name means eel, and from here you can see why it got its name."

"I see."

Maura snuggled in closer and leaned her head on Jane's strong shoulder. "The last time I was here I only had Bass for company. He was about the size of a salad plate and I carried him in a kitten bag over my shoulder."

"Did you enlighten him about the history and geography of the area?"

"I'm sure I did. I was so lonely, Jane."

"No more of that. Now you're stuck with me and you'll never have peace and quiet again." She gently lay her arm around Maura's shoulder and drew her closer. "I love you, Maura Isles, always have and always will."

Maura sniffled, wiping a tearing eye against the soft cotton of Jane's T-shirt.

"Hold on, I have something here for you." Jane rummaged in the depths of the backpack, pushing aside Maura's packages from Hermes and Chanel, Ralph Lauren, and Mont Blanc until she came to a small navy blue box. "I was going to give this to you later, but now's as good a time."

She opened the box to reveal an irregularly cut crystal roughly the size and shape of a small egg. It hung on a black leather thong. Against the blue velvet backing of the box it appeared a smokey taupe, but in the sun it gleamed gold and green and silvery grey.

"It's beautiful, Jane."

"I saw it the window of Swarovski when you were in Maison du blah blah blah and it reminded me of your eyes."

"Put it on me." She lifted her hair and turned her neck. Jane tied the leather strings in a firm knot and kissed the soft nape for good measure.

"Let me see. It's not fancy, but it suits you."

"I love it."

"Good. Now can we please eat?"

Maura shot her a look that was down right lascivious. "Here, Jane? I thought you had an aversion to fooling around in public?"

"Maura!" The detective blushed for probably the sixth time that day. "C'mere. We haven't taken nearly enough pictures this trip."

Maura leaned in and placed her cheek against Jane's. The detective held out her phone and snapped the photo.

"Let me see, Jane." Maura peered appraisingly at the screen. "I look like Rubin the Reindeer and you look like a goddess, but at least it's clear that we're in love."

"You think?" Jane examined the photo; the doctor's lips were pursed, in route to kiss Jane on the side of her mouth. Both sets of eyes were sparkling with happiness, creased at the corners with laugh lines and Jane was smiling wider than she ever had in any photo. "It's perfect, Maur, I'm going to post it on Facebook; our friends are probably thinking we went down in the Bermuda triangle since they haven't heard from us in so long. Oh, and the reindeer's name is Rudolph. I love it when I get to correct you."

"And I love when I get to caress you." Leaning her weight on Jane's shoulder for leverage, she painfully swung her legs around until she was straddling the detective's lap, where she dropped with a sigh.

"You all right, baby?"

"I am now." Maura ran her hands under Jane's T-shirt and over the warm, smooth skin of her muscular back. "I love to touch you."

"No fair, Maur, I can't touch your back. What do I do with my hands?"

"There's plenty to touch on my front, Jane." She pressed her breasts against Jane's chest for emphasis. "Plenty." She whispered again, huskier.

Maura expertly unhooked the plain white cotton bra and slipped it up Jane's torso, freeing her small, firm breasts, the erect nipples immediately apparent through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Jane whimpered as Maura's fingers followed the contour of her ribcage around her sides and up, the pads of her thumbs softly stroking the tight dark buds.

Jane fumbled under Maura's scrub top, hands trembling. _Stop it, Rizzoli._ _You__'__re acting like a clumsy teenager. Jane Rizzoli is no bumbler. _She drew a steadying breath and reached up again, cradling the soft fullness of Maura's breasts in her hands, matching Maura's movements to her own, teasing circles and firmer strokes. She captured Maura's lips and sucked on them in turn. Maura drove her pelvis down, tightening the grip of her thighs around Jane's narrow waist and Jane lifted up to meet her. She wished she could take her shorts off, rip off Maura's scrub pants and feel her. The layers of clothing separating them was maddening. Maura felt it too; she shifted in Jane's lap and withdrew one hand from Jane's breast, grappling with the zipper of the her shorts.

A shrill whistle blew and the pair froze, stunned. A red-faced couple in their 60's stood above them with a gendarme. "That's them." The male half of the couple confirmed. "My wife and I didn't come all the way from Utah to see such a disgusting spectacle. If we wanted to be offended, we could just sit at home and watch the HBO."

"Ladies, please dress and be on your way." The officer's soft accent made his polite request seem even more gentlemanly.

"Sorry." Jane stammered, not looking at the trio.

"You should be." The woman replied.

"I'm not." Maura declared. "Come, lover, let's take this elsewhere." For all her indignation, Maura could not get up. Jane had to shimmy her off her lap and then pull her to her feet. Stuffing her bra into the back pocket of her shorts, she wrapped an arm around the doctor's waist and they limped off toward the long, crumbling staircase and the harbor. When they were out of sight of other tourists they both burst into a fit of giggles.

Going down hill was harder on the pair. The back of Maura's legs were rubbed sore by the friction of her scrub pants and she hissed and groaned every time she bent her knees. They had to stop twice for a rest. "As soon as we find the restaurant, I need an aloe treatment and the hydrocortisone if you brought it."

"I did." Jane dug into the bag again and brought out a bottle of ibuprofen. She shook out two pills and passed them to the doctor with the last of the water. "I think you overdid it today, babe. After lunch it's back to the ship and back to bed."

"It's our last day in the Caribbean. I want you to see all of the sights."

"Believe me, the sight of your gloriously naked ass laying across our bed is better than any beach or palm tree. Come on. Do you want a piggyback ride?"

"No." Maura took a few more steps. "Yes."

Jane crouched and easily lifted the smaller woman onto her back.

"Do we look ridiculous?"

"Probably, but I don't give a shit. Where's the restaurant?"

"Not far. It's the cute little gingerbread house with the purple shutters. We passed it on our way to the fort. It's called L'Oiseau Rebelle."

"What does that mean?"

"It's from the opera Carmen. _L'amour est un oiseau rebelle__ q__ue nul ne peut apprivoiser__.__" _Maura sang in a very off-key monotone in Jane's ear. "Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame."

"I disagree. Love is a very tame, very cultured, little poindexter with a red nose and beautiful hazel eyes."

Maura tightened her hold around the detective's neck, burying her face in messy ebony locks, breathing in tangerine and olive, the shampoo she had lathered through Jane's hair that morning and under it, the sun-warmed scent of the woman herself. "I love you, Jane Rizzoli."

They moved much quicker on Jane's long legs, even with the extra weight of the doctor and all of her packages on her back, and before long they were standing in the shaded yard of the little bistro. A rainbow flag fluttered in the sea breeze over the entrance arch.

"Does that mean it's a gay place or does it just match the decor? This whole town is rainbow colored."

"I think it's gay, Jane. The flag is the universal symbol of gay pride. Displaying it sends the message that the establishment is welcoming to the LGBTQ community."

"I think you add a letter every time you say that, Maur."

"Say what?"

"LQZABCDGAY." Jane squinted at the menu, but it was in French. "I'll let you order anything you want for me since you missed out on your romantic dinner on St. Thomas, just no frog legs or snails."

"Deal."

"And I'm getting double desserts."

"No dessert. We're going to Sarafina's for dessert. It may very well be the best patisserie in the world."

Maura giggled over her menu.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Maura…" Jane growled.

"I know you said anything but snails and frog, but how would you feel if I ordered you the Filet de Kangourou au poive noir."

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds a lot like kangaroo, so I don't think I'd like it very much."

"That's exactly what it is. Terrible."

"Can I get a regular steak? From a cow, not a panda bear or an aardvark. And a giant beer, please."

"Done! And I will have the grouper and more water."

They sat under the shade of a small porch, its walls an ornate lattice-work in lemon and periwinkle with a sweeping view of the waterfront and the old French market. A wicker ceiling fan turned lazily above the table, pushing the briny ocean air through the restaurant. Maura chose the seat next to, instead of across from Jane and rested a warm hand on her bare thigh. "Smell that, Jane? The Atlantic is right over your shoulder. All the seafood on the menu was hauled in fresh this morning. Might I suggest a nice piece of snapper? Snapper is the salmon of the Caribbean."

"You can suggest whatever you like, Maura, I'm getting a steak. I deserve it after climbing Mt. Everbreast, um…" Jane flushed, her gaze still locked on the doctor's full bosom. "Sorry." She stammered.

Maura laughed. "I'm yours, Jane. You can look at my breasts any time without embarrassment." She stroked the soft skin along the inside of the detective's thigh. "And touch them." She added.

"Uh…okay. Old habits die hard. I spent years avoiding your breasts."

"I caught you looking many times."

Jane hid her face in her hands. "Argh."

"Don't be flustered, Jane, I look at you every chance I get. There is a distinct advantage to wearing my precarious footwear; smaller steps mean I walk behind you where I can admire your firm posterior. Not even your hideous polyester pants can hide the swell of your gluteal muscles as they flex and relax over your well developed semimembranosus, semitendinosus, and biceps femoris." The doctor licked her lips.

"So…you're an ass man, Maur?"

Maura tilted her head in thought. "Yes, I suppose I am."

The waiter approached and Maura greeted him effusively in French. Jane parsed out a few words: _hello, steak, beer_ and a dozen something.

"What did you order a dozen of? Beer, I hope."

"You couldn't drink a dozen beers, Jane. I'd have to carry you back to the boat and I don't think I could manage that today. I ordered une douzaine d'huîtres, a dozen oysters. St. Martin is famous for its mollusks, there's even a town called Oyster Pond. I've never had them, but I'm eager to try."

"I'm not." Jane made a face.

"Oh, come on, Jane. Oysters are very sexual; a splayed raw shellfish is primal and vaginal. I want to watch you eat one."

"I'll try," was the meek response.

Maura's hand was on her thigh again, inching up to the hem of her shorts and then under it, massaging the warm flesh, her fingertips just brushing the cotton crotch of her boy shorts.

"Maura…" Jane growled. "We're in a restaurant."

"I chose this particular bistro for a reason, Jane. It's gay-friendly and romantic. It's practically a requirement that we canoodle at the table."

"This is not canoodling. Canoodling is holding hands and maybe rubbing noses. Your fingers are practically…no, literally on my…" Jane stammered, the word caught on her tongue.

"Your what, Jane?" Maura's deft fingers had worked their way under the fabric of her panties and into the wet heat of her sex where they were slowly circling her erect clitoris.

"Please, Maura."

"Please stop or please don't?'

Jane let out a shaky breath. "I…I don't know."

The waiter approached, carrying a silver platter of oysters resting on a layer of crushed ice, each glistening in its own briny syrup. Maura's fingers stopped moving, but remained in place. She smiled sweetly at the young server, "Merci."

Jane groaned. "I second that. Mercy, Maura. I don't want to come in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Save that for when we're alone together in our cabin."

The doctor's hand slowly withdrew, Jane's hips unconsciously lifting in protest of the lost contact. Maura examined the lustrous dew on her fingertips then meeting Jane's gaze, touched them to her lips and then her tongue. "I merely wanted to see if you were wet."

"I've been drenched since our little…um, encounter on the fort."

"Me too." Maura confided. "Eat your oyster, Jane. I'm watching."

* * *

><p>Sarafina's was packed when they arrived. Jane groaned at the thought of missing her dessert, especially after the way Maura had been talking it up: "I had an apricot and custard tarte here in 1988 that I still dream about"; and "My mother had eclairs shipped to Boston one Christmas from Sarafina's. She dieted for a week before and after so she could gorge herself"; or "The cocoa here is so delicious that you may never want to eat chocolate again. Your palate will be ruined."<p>

"I'm waiting on line for that tarte, Jane. I don't care if we miss our ship and have to fly back to Boston."

"Fine by me. You've got me so crazed for this place that I'm not sure if I'd rather eat you or a chocolate croissant."

Maura lifted an eyebrow. "You can have both, Jane."

Jane blushed deeply. She felt the red heat of embarrassment burn across her chest and neck in its race to her cheeks. Maura leaned in closer, her breath cool on Jane's burning ear. "I may be even better than the croissant, but I'll let you be the judge of that."

With a wide grin, she disappeared into the bakery, calling over her shoulder, "Find us a table, I'll wait in line."

Jane paced the café, her detective's eye missing nothing. She noted who was lingering over a cup of coffee or nibbling delicately at a baba au rhum. Who had just sat down with a tray of Marie Antoinettes and who was licking Crème Anglaise from pudgy finger tips. Whoever moved first, she'd be on them. She paid special attention to a fat man in a fedora who kept checking his watch and frowning. He had already finished his plate, picking at every crumb and devouring it. He glanced at his wrist once again and stood. Jane moved like a cat through the crowd and slid her narrow hips into his vacated seat before it grew cool.

"Yes! Jane Rizzoli: one, waddling tourists: zero!" She pumped her fist.

She waved to the doctor who was threading gingerly through the crowd, balancing a tray piled high with confections.

"Damn, Maura, what did you buy?"

"Un Macaron Fraise Coeur Pistache." She placed a pink and green cookie filled with sea-foam colored cream in front of Jane. "Le Merveilleux." This one resembled a gooey snowball. "Éclair au Caramel et Éclair au Chocolat." Twin cigar shaped pastries on a lace paper plate hit the table. "Saint-Honoré." Three glazed cream puffs atop a delicate layered cake, which Jane immediately snatched at and began eating. "Croissant chocolat and the apricot tarte of my dreams. Do you think we can finish all this?"

"Yes." Jane dropped the Saint-Honoré and picked up an eclair. "Definitely."

Maura raised her tarte and began nibbling at its very edge. "Mmmm. This is like an orgasm of the mouth."

Jane blushed and then turned very pale. What if she was unable to please Maura? She may technically be Queen of all Lesbians, but she had zero experience with women.

"Jane, are you all right? You look a bit pallid. I hope you're not having a hypoglycemic episode."

"Mmm I'm fine." She grunted between bites.

"Well, take it easy. This is not an eating contest, you can sample everything leisurely."

An elderly couple approached, the smaller of the pair holding tight to her partner's elbow, the larger balancing a tray holding two bottles of water and a plate of cookies.

"Excuse me, I know it's a bother, but could we share your table? We've been waiting for half an hour, but we're just not quick enough to lay claim to an empty." The smaller woman asked.

"Of course." Maura smiled and gestured to the two empty chairs.

"Thanks, ladies." The bigger woman pulled out a chair and guided her partner into it. She opened a bottle of water and placed it in the woman's hand, kissing the top of her head before sitting down herself.

Jane watched them; it was clear the smaller woman was blind and she felt immediately ashamed of her table-hogging ways.

"I'm Kaye and this is my wife Faye." The bigger woman introduced them.

"We're Maura and Jane. Please help yourself to some pastries. I overshopped, as usual." The doctor replied. "Are you two from the Olivia cruise?"

"Yes." Faye nodded. "Our son bought us this trip for our 40th anniversary. It's lovely here in Marigot and so different from the Dutch Side. I think all of the young people are having a party on the beach, but this suits us much better. Are you the same Jane who is the Queen of All Lesbians?" She turned in Jane's direction, but her green eyes were unfocused and she seemed to be looking at something a foot to the detective's right.

"Yup, that's me."

"We've enjoyed your antics throughout the cruise."

"Uh, thanks."

"Kaye narrated the triathlon for me. She has a real gift; she might have been a sportscaster in another life."

"Were you born blind?" The doctor asked, taking another ladylike bite of her tarte.

"Maura!" Jane growled. "That's rude."

Faye smiled. "It's not rude, Jane. No, I slowly lost my sight due to macular degeneration. It progressed steadily after I noted the first symptoms, but it's really only the past three years that I've been completely in the dark. Now Kaye is my eyes."

Kaye pushed the plate of cookies in front of her wife and gently placed her hand on them.

"What do you miss most?" Maura asked.

"Maura…" Jane growled again under her breath.

"Reading and working. Kaye reads the paper to me every morning and my journals, though they bore her to tears and I have books on tape, but I really do miss my work."

"Aren't you retired?"

"We retired to Vermont fifteen years ago, after Kaye put in her 30 years with the NYPD. She was going to putter around in her workshop and I planned to open a small family practice out of our house. I did, for a few years, but…"

"Are you a physician?"

"Yes."

"Faye was the chief of Emergency Medicine at Lenox Hill Hospital." Kaye added proudly.

"Lenox Hill is an exceptional hospital. My father had bypass surgery there years ago. Do you know Dr. Sanjay Kauta?"

"Of course. Sanjay was one of my interns years ago. He was a brilliant student and a fine man."

"What did you do for the NYPD?" Jane asked Kaye.

"I spent most of my career in the Housing Unit."

"Ooooh, that's rough work."

"Yeah, the biggest sport in the projects is shooting at the police from the roof, but I retired from Brooklyn North Anti-Crime Squad."

"Detective?" Jane asked.

"Captain."

"Nice."

Jane pulled her chair around to sit closer to Kaye. They shared war stories, argued over whether a Glock 19 or a SIG Sauer P226 was a better on-duty weapon, compared scars; Kaye had been shot in the hip by a ricocheting bullet in a project elevator shaft and broke her knee when a crazed crackhead threw her down a flight of stairs. "She was a little thing, smaller than Faye, and I weighed a good 170–175 at the time. She picked me up over her head like the Hulk."

"Damn." Jane laughed. "Crack is whack."

"Yeah, but I'm glad it happened. That's how I met Faye. She set my broken leg. How'd you meet Maura?"

"Squatting over a rapidly decaying corpse in the August heat."

"Wow, romantic."

Maura and Faye discussed an article from the _New England Journal of Medicine_ and played a rousing game of medical anagrams. Faye won when she stumped the M.E. with a brilliant logograph: "Sickles Out,Yo!" and Maura couldn't come up with the disease, leukocytosis.

"Hey, it's getting late. Do you two wanna share a cab back to the ship?"

* * *

><p>"They remind me of us." Maura held tight to the inside of Jane's elbow as they strolled the long pier back toward the ship.<p>

"You think so, Dr. Obvious?"

Maura snorted and poked Jane in the ribs. "Do you think we will be like them when we're together 40 years?"

Jane thought a minute. "Yeah, probably, but I hope you're not blind."

"Oh, me too." Maura chuckled. "Maybe we'll have a son to send us on a nice vacation."

"Sure, if you have him."

"Why me?"

"Because." Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Faye is the one who got pregnant."

"I'm sure she wasn't."

"Oh, c'mon, Maura. That big old dyke police captain didn't walk around with a big belly cracking heads in the projects."

"Faye told me she had a hysterectomy in her early teens after a burst appendix; it's what made her want to become a doctor."

Jane drew her brows together, frowning. "Maybe he's adopted."

Maura shrugged. "It doesn't matter. They made a beautiful life together and have been partners for as long as we've been alive. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yeah."

"Jane, can we take another lesbian cruise for our 40th?"

"Definitely, but let's not wait 40 years. I say we take one every year on our anniversary. This is the best vacation ever." She shook her head remembering how different she felt just a few days earlier, vowing to sulk in her cabin until the ship returned to Boston.

"Hallo, mooie mama, can I braid your hair? Oh, such a pretty hair, gold like the sun." A dark-skinned woman in a bright caftan reached out and touched the doctor's locks.

"No, but thank you for your kind offer."

"How about you, lange dame, I do your hair."

Another woman approached. "You buy some beads? Banana ketchup? Very delicious."

"Nope. Keep walking, Maura."

"Yo, Jane!" Big Carl was jumping up and down and waving her arms 100 yards ahead of them. Jane waved back, but the little police officer continued to jump and wave. "We need your help."

"What now?" She muttered, but then she caught sight of Lucy's wheelchair and a small crowd around it and her annoyance turned to fear. "Hold tight, Maura, let me see what's going on."

"Do you think she needs a doctor?"

"Dunno. If she does, I'll come get you." She kissed Maura's cheek and took off down the pier at a quick trot.

"What's the story, Carl?"

"Lucy's batteries are dead so she can't get up the gangway. She refuses to let anyone carry her, but you. Millie-Joyce just ran up to your room, we figured you and Maura spent the day in bed." She raised a suggestive eyebrow and pumped her hips, her tongue flicking obscenely.

Jane wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and mussed her short brown cow-lick; Carl really was like one of her little brothers. She released the smaller woman and gazed down the pier at Maura. "Prince Carl, go tell Maur that everything's fine. She doesn't have to rush down here to perform CPR or the hind lick maneuver."

Carl bowed with a flourish and jogged back toward the town.

"Lu, I heard you're out of gas."

"Jane!" Bright blue eyes sparkled up at her, smitten.

Jane lifted the frail figure and carried her up the gangway while four crew members hoisted the chair and followed behind. She conveyed Lucy to the medical bay a the rear of the ship where Dr. Concepcion was certain to have a wheelchair she could borrow until the batteries on her own could be charged.

When she returned to the end of the pier, Maura was sitting on a rickety folding chair, her shoulders tense with a look of abject misery on her face, while two women worked their hands through her tresses, humming in counterpoint as they formed tight, narrow braids.

Jane couldn't hold in the small sniggers of laughter that escaped her clenched tight mouth as she opened the stateroom door. Once the first broke free, more followed until she was doubled over and gasping for air, the laughter unstoppable. "Oh, Maura, I think I just pissed myself a little. I can't…"

The doctor was not amused. She peered at her reflection in the mirror and felt nothing but disgust at her own inability to say no. Jane appeared behind her, wiping her running nose and eyes. "Oh, babe, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but even you can't carry off that hairdo. Cornrows are just not meant for Caucasian women." She snorted again, contorting her face to keep another outburst contained. "What did you pay for that complete masturbation? Whatever the cost, you should have offered double for them not to do it."

"Masturbation?"

"It's a saying, Maur, it means a total mess."

"Masturbation is a healthy and pleasurable activity. It shouldn't be used as a pejorative." She raised her lecturing finger. "That's a perfect example of how language shapes and is shaped by society's outdated moral code…"

"Maura." Jane cut her off with a kiss. "You're adorable, even with that mastur…mess on your head."

"Do you think I'll have to shave my head? I simply can't be seen in Boston like this."

"Don't be silly, it will grow out in a few months. We'll all be used to it by then."

Maura's eyes widened. "A few months?"

"I'm just having some fun at your expense and I shouldn't do that." Jane kissed the top of her tightly braided scalp. "We'll have a little cocktail party later; I'll invite the gang and we'll take turns unbraiding you. I'm sure Millie-Joyce can make some kind of perverted game out of it. But until then…" Jane pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"Jane Rizzoli, don't you dare put that on Facebook. If you do, I'll…"

"You'll what?"

Maura bit her lip in thought. "I'll cry." She finished.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Maura. That would be like you posting a picture of me in my triathlon strap-on."

Maura grinned.

"You didn't?"

"Well…no, of course not."

"I'm going to keep this picture to look at when we inevitably have a fight. I'll remember this day and it will make me turn around and apologize for whatever I did and beg your forgiveness."

"I'll never make you beg…for forgiveness."

"Oh? How about we finish what we started earlier? I can't wait to see if those women braided all of your hair."

"Jane!" Maura swatted at her lover's retreating ass and then followed her into the bedroom.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading. So our girls are leaving paradise and heading back north to cold, snowy Boston. I hope you will all stay aboard for the ride. Extra cruise points to anyone with Photoshop skills who wants to try to put corn row braids on Maura.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane spread the sea-blue velour blanket across the bed. "Try lying on this; it's really soft, much easier on your back than the sheets." She eased the smaller woman down and sat beside her, holding her hand. "I know you're used to finer things, Maur. Sheets spun from Pegasus's mane and washed in virgins' tears…"

Maura poked her, smirking, but Jane was being serious; at least serious for Jane. "I'm not one of the finer things, babe. I can only promise…"

"Jane, stop." Maura sat part way up, leaning on one arm. She looked into earnest brown eyes. "You are the finest woman I know. Your heart is pure gold… no, lutetium."

"Lutetium?"

"It's the rarest of the elements that actually occur in nature and hence the most precious. Francium is actually rarer, but it's unstable, and I know your heart is steadfast."

"It is…only you, Maura."

Maura smiled and eased back down, pulling Jane with her. They kissed deeply, slowly undressing each other until they lay naked and trembling in one another's arms. "Are you okay, baby, are you in too much pain?"

"I'm fine, Jane. The endorphins released by sexual stimulation have overridden the pain sensors in my brain. I can barely feel the burn at all." She flipped Jane over and mounted her, lifting one long, tan leg to draw their pelvises closer.

_This is it_. Jane's heartbeat doubled as Maura began to move against her, her full breasts swaying to the rhythm she set with her hips. Jane followed the tempo easily, drawing close on Maura's downbeat and falling away as her partner withdrew, only to move back to her again and again. She let her hands wander up Maura's flanks, tracing the fine bones of her ribs as they flowed toward her sternum. The crystal around Maura's neck blazed olive and citrine as the dying rays of the setting sun sluiced through the balcony door, catching it as it swung against her pale neck and Maura's eyes, locked on Jane's, changed from amber and sea glass to honey and pewter in the same flickering light.

Jane watched her, her body no longer under her control. She moved automatically like breathing or seeing or turning her head when someone called her name. All at once she was flying and falling, lifted out of herself and hyperaware of her own body and her place in it. Maura was transformed above her, glowing, suffused with joy. "Jane." She whispered. "Jane. Jane. Jane."

They woke in the night and reached for one another; it was wondrous to Maura to be able to ghost her fingers across the satiny flesh of Jane's breasts and watch her nipples bloom, tightening and reaching for her like flowers grow to the sun, to move her hands and mouth and sex over hard muscle and silky, tan skin while Jane lay tame and indulgent, watching with her espresso eyes from under long dark lashes.

"Wait, Maur. I know this is weird, but I've always wanted to do it." Jane rolled onto her side and reached under the bed where she remembered kicking aside her discarded shorts. "Ha! Got it."

She returned, grinning, with a slightly squished eclair in her fist.

"Jane?" The doctor tilted her head, her eyes growing wide. "You're not going to insert that into my vagina, are you? That's not very hygienic, and the sugars could throw off the delicate symbiosis of vaginal flora leading to candidiasis."

"No worries, lovebug, we can just stimulate your scones glands through your anus and flush it all out, right?"

Maura looked doubtful. "I suppose…and they are Skene's glands, Jane."

"Oh, Maura, relax. I'm not going to do that." She broke the eclair in half, releasing a gooey stream of fragrant caramel. Holding it over the doctor's stomach she let it run down in a slow stream from her bikini line to her breasts. Maura sighed at the sensation. The thick nougat was still warm from being in Jane's pocket for hours. Jane moved her hand in a steady pattern, drizzling a sugary heart around her girlfriend's navel with its tip just touching the tawny hairs below her belly. "You said I could have both."

"I did and you can, but how will you…oh."

Jane dropped the depleted pastry and sank to the bed between Maura's thighs. With a graceful arch of her long neck she leaned over the curvy body beneath her and ran her tongue over the sweet confection, tracing first the sugary line bisecting Maura's alabaster abdomen from belly to breastbone then the lopsided heart, up one hip bone and down the other. When she reached the syrupy tip she hesitated, looking up at her beloved, asking permission. Maura's eyes were closed and she was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. _Anticipation. _

She bent forward and licked along the cleft of Maura's sex, parting it. She tasted the caramel that still coated her tongue and under it, her lover's own nectar, sweet and salty and smoky all at once. She nuzzled in closer, kissing everywhere, her mouth and nose coated with Maura. She wanted to drink her in, to drown in her, to possess and understand all that she was; the answers were here in her essence. She thrust her tongue deep into Maura's opening and the doctor moaned. Jane wanted to hear that sound again and again. Forever. She replaced her tongue with three long fingers, easily sliding deep in the slick wet heat.

Maura moaned again and lifted her hips from the mattress. "Jane." She panted. "I need…Jane."

"Oh…" Jane moved her lips to the swollen clit and circled it, fighting to keep her mouth where Maura needed it as the doctor bucked harder against her. Maura breathed deeply and froze, her muscles rigid, hips locked above the mattress, hovering on the edge. Then with a soft exhale she was over, spasming against Jane's hand. Jane stayed inside, her cheek resting on her lover's silky thigh. She wished she could have seen Maura's face at that moment, looked into her eyes, telegraphed her love.

"Jane." Maura's hand was buried in her thick dark tresses, massaging her scalp. "Jane, love, come up here."

She kissed the soft thigh under her lips and moved up the bed until she lay on her side, looking into half-lidded golden eyes. "Was I okay?"

"Perfectly wonderful." Maura licked at her lips, tasting herself. She deepened the kiss and Jane responded, sliding her tongue against Maura's.

The doctor pulled back, and tilted her head in thought. "I'm ingesting too much sodium. I can taste it. I need to cut back."

_How very like Maura, to analyze the salt content of her own come during sex. _"Babe," Jane laughed. "You are absolutely delicious. Better than all the pastries in Sarafina's put together.

Maura waggled her hand. "A little salty, Jane. Admit it."

"I have no point of reference to compare it to."

"Wait until we're home and I'm back on my organic, high-fiber, low-sodium diet. You'll be very pleased with the difference."

"We're on vacation, Maura. Just learn to say 'fuck it.'"

Maura nodded. "Fuck it, Jane. I'm going to fuck you all night."

* * *

><p>There was a circus-like atmosphere on the pool deck. Women strolled arm in arm holding paper cones wrapped with pink and blue cotton candy, some with faces lavishly painted; tigers, dragons, butterflies and cats seemed to be the most popular, but Maura noted a very lifelike Sarcophilus harrisii, though on closer inspection, it was more likely a common brown bear painted on a woman with an unfortunately large proboscis.<p>

"Wanna get your face painted, babe?"

"Maybe. Perhaps if I had the visage of a feral gerenuk, it would draw attention away from my hair."

"Don't worry, lovebug, we'll get that sorted out today. I promise. I think I may get a little face art. Demon eyes, I think, like Gene Simmons. You can get a black star over your eye like Paul Stanley."

"Who?"

"No, not the Who, Kiss."

Maura pursed her lips and leaned in expectantly. Jane gave her a soft, lingering smooch. "You have no idea what I'm talking about and that's okay because I love you." They kissed again, deeper.

The big pool was filled to capacity with cruisers taking full advantage of their last warm day to bob in the sunshine. The four hot tubs surrounding it were also jammed, with lines of women waiting their turn to soak.

"That's disgusting, Maur, those tubs must be full of boiled pubic hair and ass sweat. I'd rather tongue-kiss Korsak than sit in there."

"Agreed, Jane. The water temperature is just warm enough to encourage the unrestricted growth of tinea cruris, a fungal infection of the groin."

"Yeah, I've heard of that. We called it twat rot in the academy. You can get it from wearing sweaty workout pants for too long."

"Yes and you'll notice a white residue ringing the tub; that's millions of dead skin cells shed by by a hundred different bodies."

"Gross."

"Yoo-hoo! Jane! Maura!" The clarion voice of Beata Frankenmeier carried across the deck, followed by the woman herself, resplendent in a gold lamé catsuit, her voluminous breasts straining against the half-zipped front.

"Beata, that outfit is stunning. You're like a sun come to earth."

"Ah, this was designed by Baron Von Kameltoe for a production of _D__ie Frau ohne Schatten _that I sang at Deutsche Oper Berlin. It was terrible really. The entire opera was set in a women's restroom circa 1975, my throne as Empress was a dirty toilet bowl. I walked out after the first performance and took my entire wardrobe. Coco says that setting Strauss in a bathroom was tantamount to displaying the Mona Lisa in a charnel house. She gave an impassioned speech about the sanctity of the classical art form in the age of depersonalization on the steps of the opera house. It brought people to tears."

"That's right." Coco appeared beside her holding a foot-long hot dog and a piña colada served in a hollowed-out pineapple.

"So, we haven't seen the two of you for ages. What have you been doing?"

Jane flushed. "Just, um, having some private time."

Maura smiled and pressed in closer against her girlfriend's side.

Coco nodded in approval, shifting her hotdog to her other hand so she could offer a fraternal fist bump.

"Splendid." Beata seconded. "The gentle rocking of the waves, the primal scent of sea in the air, it's a natural aphrodisiac."

"Did we miss anything?"

"No, not really. Carl made an ass of herself at the casino and was thrown out. She was drunk and tried to bet her bra and a bottle of lube on number 69."

Maura frowned. "There's no 69 on a roulette wheel."

"Precisely."

"Are you singing today?"

"I may jump on stage for a few tunes, but I'm an enthusiastic competitor in the Great Gay Grapple."

"Am I?" Jane asked.

"Mais oui. Didn't you study your Sappho's Sheet this morning?"

"Partially. Maura stepped on an eclair and used it to wipe off her foot. We knew about the carnival, but most of the details were hidden under chocolate."

"Are you wearing a bikini?"

"No."

"Well go back and change. Put your hair up, too. Jello wrestling is dirty work."

Jane took in the length and breadth of the pool deck. She needed a seat for Maura where she would be out of the sun and still able to see the action at the kiddy pool, very specific requirements. Unfortunately there seemed to be an ass in every chair and another thousand asses lumbering about still grazing on cold hot dogs and cotton candy. A large woman in a Team Jane shirt shuffled out of the way and Jane spied their septuagenarian doppelgängers at a small table in the shade. "C'mon, Maur."

"Wait, Jane, I'm looking at these pride rings. I want to buy a set to hang from the rearview mirror in my Prius, and then I'd like to shop for some more souvenirs. Your mother needs a set of those rainbow potholders. And TJ would be adorable in that 'I Love My Lesbian Auntie' T-shirt, although he calls you Uncle Jane." She drew her brows together. "Very strange."

"Yeah. That's Tommy's idea of a joke, fucking dick. Let's just get you a seat and then you can leave your purse or whatever on it and shop your sexy ass off. You can sit with Faye and Kaye or Kaye and Faye. I don't remember which one is which."

"That's easy, Jane. Just use a phonetic mnemonic; F-Faye is a ph-physician and K-Kaye is a c-cop."

Jane grinned. "That works! Freakin' genius."

"May we join you?"

"Of course. We'd be happy to return the favor."

Jane pulled out a chair for Maura and settled her comfortably upon it, making sure the doctor's back was in the shade and the sun out of her eyes. As she bent her lips to Maura's temple, the thought struck her that this was a mirror of Kaye's behavior to her wife in Marigot. She smiled to herself. _Two days down, forty years to go._

"You want a drink, babe?"

"Yes, something tropical and fruity."

"Ladies?"

"We're drinking light beer."

"All right. I'll get a bucket."

When she returned, Maura was absorbed in a thin, red-covered book, _A Balistreri Collection_. She peered over the cover, her eyes sparkling and dimples fully popped. "Jane, this is the most wonderful book."

"Yeah? What is it, A Theoretical Treatise on Geekological Dorkdom?"

"No. It's poetry."

Jane groaned, placing a frothy apricot-colored concoction in front of her girlfriend. "I hate poetry."

"This is very clever, Jane. Each poem is 26 words in alphabetical order."

"Big deal." She took a huge swig from a frosted bottle of Corona Light and returned it to the ice-filled bucket.

"They're very difficult to write, nearly impossible to craft a coherent poem. Kaye and I have been trying all afternoon to write one for our granddaughter and we can't get past Q."

"I'm sure Maura could do it. She's a genius."

"So's Faye." Her wife added, patting the blind doctor's soft hand.

"Try Maura. I'm sure you can come up with a list of flesh-eating bacterias or diseases of the lymphatic system."

"I could, but that wouldn't be poetry. It should be narrative, not merely a catalogue."

"Make it erotic." Millie-Joyce appeared behind them, licking her lips. "I need a little sexual tension to get my blood pumping and my muscles jumping."

The doctor sighed and closed the book. "I'll try." She cleared her throat and scratched her peeling nose. "A briny chasm, delving elegant fingers, grinding hard. I'm Jane's. Keep loving me, nearing optimal penetration. Quicker! Rub, suckle, taste. Undulating vulvas, wet Xanadu, yonic zenith."

"Wow." Kaye put down her beer. "I'm impressed. You should send an email to the author, maybe you could co-write her next poetry book."

"Jane is my muse." The doctor smiled. "Her love-making last night was very… inspirational."

Jane blushed, hiding her face in Maura's cornrows as she ran short fingernails up and down her itching back. "You inspire me every day, Maur." She whispered.

"Hot damn! Now I'm all revved up and ready to wrestle." Millie-Joyce pinched her own nipples and slapped Jane's ass. "Prepare to die by Jello, Rizzoli."

Jane perched on the arm of Maura's chair, drinking her beer and surveying the carnival. There was a still a long line for airbrush tattoos, but the wait for face painting had slowed considerably. _Fuck it. _It would be a waste to get her Gene Simmons face on only to have it smear and run in the Jello pit; she'd end up looking more like a chimney sweep than a demon, but she would love to try out some ink. "Be right back, babe." She kissed the doctor's cheek and Maura smiled absent-mindedly, deep in conversation with K-no-F-Faye about either poetry or medicine; Jane couldn't tell having picked up something about bionic pentagrams and a catalexis. Poor Kaye looked just as lost, picking at the label on her beer bottle.

Jane returned with one of the tattoo artists, the young woman who made the Amazon Army T-shirts: _Brittney. _She remembered. She had pulled rank as Queen of All Lesbians and cut the line. _Even without her shield, Jane Rizzoli commands respect._ She smiled to herself.

"Hey, Maur, I'm gonna get a tattoo. You want one?"

"Certainly not."

"They're temporary."

Maura frowned. "So is my unfortunate hairstyle, but I can only bear one indignity at a time, so no tattoos until you find a way to rid me of these…" She gestured vaguely to her head. "…masturbations."

Jane laughed. "I love it when you pick up a Rizzoli-ism."

"Is someone masturbating in public?" Faye turned to her wife in alarm.

"No, baby, Maura was referring to her um…unusual hairstyle. I described it to you earlier…the uh…"

"Hideous cornrow. Yes, I remember."

"Sorry, Maura." Kaye stammered.

"That's perfectly fine. They are hideous and I'm very eager to rid myself of them."

"I tried to unbraid them." Jane offered. "But, they're very tight and little beads at the end are too much for my…"

"You have nerve damage in your hands." Faye stated. "Kaye told me about your injury."

Jane had sat against the headboard of their bed the night before with Maura resting between her thighs, working at the knotty rows with her clumsy fingers. After an hour only three braids were freed and Jane was nearly in tears, more from frustration than pain. She rested her forehead against Maura's shoulder and groaned. "I give up."

"Maura, would you like me to unbraid your hair?" The blind doctor asked.

"Yes! Do you think you can?"

"I'm sure, with a little help from Kaye's eyes. I braid our granddaughter's hair every morning before school. I've learned all the different styles; some days she wants a French, other days it's a twist or a fishtail. What's the new one, Kaye?"

"A waterfall."

"Right. That one's very difficult; it takes all four of our hands." She smiled as she remembered it. "We give Annalise breakfast every morning before school and then watch her for a few hours in the afternoon until her parents get home from work. She keeps us young."

"How old is she?"

"Six. Kaye, show her a picture."

The old police captain pulled out her phone and swiped a few times across the screen before handing it to Maura. The screen was filled with the grinning face of a very freckled redhead. Maura noted her long hair was elaborately braided and piled high on top of her head. "She's adorable. Isn't she, Jane?"

Jane took the phone and smiled, despite herself. The little girl was missing both front teeth and seemed to be proud of that fact. "Yeah. She's a cutie."

Brittney cleared her throat impatiently. Jane had forgot she was there. "Oh, sorry, Britt. I'll go first. What should I get, Maur?"

"A panther." Maura answered, without thinking. "A black panther."

"Is that a political message?" Kaye bristled. "Those people have a bad history with law enforcement."

"No, not at all. It's just the way I think of Jane; she's like a jungle cat: sleek and limber and dark-furred."

"Yeah, we all got an eye-full of that dark fur on the balcony the other night." Big Carl joined them, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a chicken leg in the other.

"Shut up, brat." Jane spun to slap at her, but her arm was firmly pinned under Brittney's as she etched an outline in black paint.

"Hold still or your panther will wind up looking more like a fat black lab."

"Carl, what the fuck is on your head?"

"You like it?" Carl was sporting a pink-billed baseball cap topped with a voluptuous pair of rubber breasts. Each breast held a can of beer and a straw ran from the round red nipples into her mouth.

"It's fabulous. Where can I get one?" Jane deadpanned.

"You can't. I won it playing topless twister at the beach party yesterday."

Jane congratulated herself for skipping the Philipsburg beach party and that particular activity.

Maura had moved her chair close to Faye's and the elderly pair were deep in discussion about how to go about removing the beads. Carl squatted beside them, offering her help. "I have small hands. I bet I'd rock at this."

"That's not something I'd brag about as a lesbian." Jane poked her.

"Sure it is. I can get into all kinds of places that you can't."

Jane tried to imagine what places she was talking about and was about to ask, but thought better of it. Why give away her status as a newbie in the world of lesbian love.

"I heard you got thrown out of someplace last night." Millie-Joyce was back wearing a black thong bikini decorated with bright yellow tennis balls, her big glasses held in place with a double band of matching yellow bungie cord.

"Yeah, the casino. I've been thrown out of better places."

"Jane and I were escorted off of Fort St. Louis yesterday in Marigot for desecrating a national monument." Maura piped up, she felt lighter as the multicolored pile of beads continued to grow on the table next to her and the tight braids loosened, her scalp relaxing.

"You?"

"We were making out and some assholes got offended." Jane shrugged.

"Hold still, Jane. I'm up to a very delicate part." The tattoo artist shifted, clamping Jane's wrist firmly between her knees.

"I desecrated a national monument once." Millie-Joyce offered. "It was 1977 and I had just won the Virginia Slims Nationals in Washington. I raced up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and rubbed one out on Abe's lap."

"Yuck. I'll never be able to get that picture of of my mind, Ming. You've ruined Presidents Day for me."

The tennis legend snorted and began to jog in place. "Five minutes till Jello, Jane. Do you want to borrow some nipple grease?"

"I have no idea what that is, but no."

The band began to warm up, the Rastafarian bassist slapping a quick running scale on the E-string. Beata Frankenmeier took the stage in her shimmering gold catsuit. "We're going ho-ho- home, homos! Back to the cold, back to the winter, back to snowpants and thermal underwear."

The crowd booed and hissed. Calls of "Fuck winter!" and "Snow can suck my dick!" rang out randomly from across the pool deck.

"Right on, sisters! Snow can suck my dick as well and Jack Frost can eat my pussy with a side of horseradish! It's 16° in Boston this morning, but we're not in Boston. Our captain tells me that we are midway between Miami and Grand Bahama and it's a sizzling 79° on the pool deck. Perfect weather for mashing together our lady parts in the Jello pool."

"Mash them, Beata! Show us your tits!" Someone yelled.

"Oh, I will. I have no doubt there will be a little slip of the nip in the old Jello pit."

"That's right." Coco agreed from her seat in the front row.

"All done." Brittney declared, releasing Jane's hand from her death grip.

"Holy crap." The panther was perfect; it could have been a photograph from a National Geographic Magazine in its attention to detail. It stalked with feline ferocity down the length of Jane's left biceps, its fangs bared in a predatory snarl. But instead of projecting menace, it declared love; from its mouth a stream of flowers flowed, tiny pink peonies, golden dandelions, violet petunias and ruby zinnias, expertly grouped together so they spelled the name Maura.

"This is amazing work, Britt. I wish it was permanent."

"It can be. I work out of a shop called W-ink, Women's Ink in Maynard. Come by anytime and I'll ink you up for real."

"I will…um, if that's okay with Maura."

"I think I like the idea of having my own personal Louvre on your body, Jane, so long as you hold to the Delphic maxim 'Μηδεν αγαν', nothing to excess."

"Well said, Maura." Faye agreed, her hands still moving through the doctor's half braided hair. "And might I add, 'Φρονησιν ασκει'."

"'Exercise prudence.'" Maura translated. "Indeed."

"Nerds in stereo." Jane laughed. "How do we deal with it, Kaye?"

"Beer, Jane, lots of beer." The old police captain raised her bottle. "Next bucket is on me."

On stage in the small gazebo Beata unzipped her catsuit to her waist and turned to her drummer, a Filipino crew member in a rasta wig. "Drum roll, please, Rey."

A thumping rhythm began and the crowd clapped along, some stamping their feet. Beata shimmied her shoulders out of the jumpsuit revealing a matching gold lamé bikini top. She flexed her pectoral muscles making her heavy breasts pulse in time to the beat.

"Mama mia!" Someone shouted.

The big diva began to undulate her hips as the bassist picked up the beat, his long dark fingers caressing the fretboard. The catsuit descended slowly over Beata's ample hips and thighs until it pooled at her feet in a molten puddle of gleaming metal and she stood, a vision from the brush of Rubens, resplendent in her gold bathing suit and the pink of her creamy skin.

"Marry me, Beata!" A woman screamed from the sun deck above. Coco stood and looked above her, scowling.

"Do you like my bikini, ladies?"

"Yeah!"

"I wore this when I sang Salome at Opéra Bastille. When the last veil came off, even the head of John the Baptist was drooling."

The guitarist on Beata's right played a jangly intro and the band launched into a Rolling Stone's classic. The diva strutted across the stage, pursing her lips in her best Jagger impression. "I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her and she's so cold. I'm so hot for her, I'm on fire for her, I'm so hot for her and she's so cold. I'm the burning bush …" She raised an eyebrow and thrust her pelvis at the crowd. They went wild; Mick himself couldn't have revved the group into a higher frenzy, at least not an audience of 2,800 vacationing lesbians.

Jane couldn't help herself; a diehard Stones fan, she sang along, pumping her fist in the air.

Brittney was kneeling next to Maura, examining a red and peeling arm. "I don't think it will work. Your skin will flake off and take the tattoo with it. I can put it someplace else…your breast or ass or maybe the inside of your forearm."

Maura turned her arm over. "Forearm is fine. I can't move now to give you access to anyplace else." She gestured to the three women who were still working diligently on her head.

"Okay. What do you want?"

The doctor shrugged. "I have no idea, but you're very talented. Surprise me."

The song ended and Beata curtsied deeply. "Whew. That song always makes me hot. I think a refreshing dip in a pool of Jello is in order. Who's my first victim…I mean challenger?"

A quartet of crew members surrounded the kiddie pool, removing the rainbow colored tarp to reveal a quivering lake of green gelatin.

"Lime, my favorite." Maura declared. "I'm going to lick it off of you later, Jane."

The detective shuddered, remembering the doctor's hot wet mouth kissing its way down her abdomen the night before. _Oh God. _She wished the contest was over and they were back in their cabin.

"Am I up first, Millie-Joyce?" Beata asked. "I love to be the one to break the Jello hymen."

"You are. And your challenger is…" The tennis pro flipped through a sheaf of papers. "Kerry O'Hara of Boston. Kerry? Come on down."

The band played a lively jig and a chunky blonde in an ill-fitting bikini approached the pool. She stood at the very edge and dipped a hesitant toe into the green gelatin. It wobbled but did not break.

Millie-Joyce sprinted to the stage. "Here are the rules: there are none. Anything goes in the Jello pit. Hold down your opponent for fifteen seconds and you win."

Kerry O'Hara bit her lip nervously, looking across the pool at the giantess she was scheduled to wrestle and up at the stands to her partner.

"She looks anxious, honey-girl. She's twisting her hands and looking around for someone to save her. My money says she bolts." Kaye narrated the events poolside for her wife.

"On the count of three…" Millie-Joyce shouted. "One, two, three!"

Beata threw back her head and trilled Brünnhilde's battle cry. "Ho jo to ho!" She tucked up her knees and cannonballed into the center of the pool. The gelatin gave way under her weight and she sank quickly to the bottom throwing up a lime green wave. Kerry O'Hara remained indecisive poolside until a large pink hand emerged from the muck and pulled her in.

The drummer flexed his foot over the bass pedal and a deep booming rhythm resounded across the deck; _thump-boom-boom, thump-boom-boom, thump-boom-boom_. The crowd picked up the cadence and chanted in time. "Be-a-ta, Be-a-ta, Be-a-ta!" A hundred banners unfurled emblazoned with the diva's name and her signature twin-horned viking helmet.

Maura struggled to her feet, but was held in place by the firm grip of the tattoo artist. "They haven't emerged from under the Jello. One or both may need medical attention."

"That's why Dr. Concepcion is here." Jane pointed to the small figure in a white coat perched on the lifeguard chair. "She doesn't seem concerned."

A few more seconds passed and Beata's head broke the surface, followed by her broad shoulders and meaty arms. She hauled up Kerry O'Hara by her bikini straps. The woman's face was as green as the lime gelatin that clung to her. "I know we've been under for more than 15 seconds, but you can start the official countdown now, Millie-Joyce."

"No!" Kerry squeaked. "I concede."

Beata shrugged and boosted the chunky woman out of the pool with one big hand under her buttocks, before gracefully mounting the stairs to the cheers of an adoring audience.

Millie-Joyce tossed a T-shirt at the defeated woman. "Here's your consolation prize." Now that her ordeal was over, Kerry's good humor had returned. She held up the shirt and circled the pool for all to see: "Dip me in Jello and throw me to the LESBIANS," it read.

"I hope Beata is eliminated before you have to wrestle her, Jane."

"Nah. The bigger they come, the harder they fall." Jane bragged, but inwardly she hoped for the same thing.

The diva made her way to the stage, leaving a trail of lime gelatin in her wake. She paused in front of Coco where the smaller woman buried her head in the famous Frankenmeier décolletage, emerging with a green face.

"Whoa, babe, Coco's having a boob party!" Kaye announced to her wife.

"Coco seems to have disappeared into Beata's intermammary cleft." Maura had joined Kaye in describing the action at poolside for Faye's sake. The blind physician beamed, her brilliant mind correlating a picture from the two very different narrations.

Beata took the microphone. "So I live to fight another day. Thank you, Kerry, you're a brave woman. You're up, Millie-Joyce and your opponent is….Carla Timmons, our Beach Titty Twister winner! She's very limber."

"So am I!" The tennis champ backflipped off of the gazebo, landing on the edge of the kiddie pool where she ended in a full split. "Suck that, bitches!" She howled.

"Damn, Carl. You got your work cut out for you, man."

"I know it." The little police officer dropped the braid she was working on and puffed out her chest. "Jane, watch my hat."

She was back, red-faced and dripping Jello less than five minutes later, clutching her consolation prize T-shirt in one hand. "She fights dirty, real dirty," was her only comment.

Two ship's crew members emerged from a utility closet carrying a coiled firehose. "Wet me, boys!" Beata spread her arms and a rush of water washed the green gelatin from her body. She shook herself dry like an oversized Great Dane and, nodding to her guitarist, launched into a boogie-infused rendition of Melissa Etheridge's "Somebody Bring Me Some Water."

A woman at the table next to Maura screamed. "Somebody better bring me some water too, 'cause I'm about to swoon."

"Me too." Her friend responded. "That woman is one mountain I would love to climb."

"You're done, Maura." Faye ran soothing fingers through strawberry blonde tresses. "Yes. We've got them all. Your hair is probably a little wavier than usual, but I'm certain a good shampooing and blow out will fix that."

"I can't thank you enough. Faye, you have a very gentle touch."

"That comes from 30 years in Emergency Medicine. I imagine you do as well, Maura."

"I wouldn't know." Maura frowned. "All of my patients are dead."

"What about me?" Carl pouted. "I helped too. Don't I have a gentle touch?"

"Yes, you do. I suspect you are a very tender lover, Carla."

The little woman blushed under her green gelatin coating, but she walked a bit taller as she headed poolside to be hosed off.

"Done!" Brittney pulled off her face mask and blew across Maura's forearm. "Close your eyes." She sprayed a sealant across her artwork and blew again. "You can look now."

Maura opened her eyes and gasped, all the color draining from her face, even her red and peeling nose seemed to have paled to a dull pink. Ever polite, she struggled to find a word of praise for the expectant artist. "It's…very detailed and extremely realistic." She finally said. "You have quite the imagination and…an eye for portraiture." She smiled uncomfortably, but the artist didn't pick up on it.

"Cool. If you want that made permanent, come on over to Maynard. I'll give you and the detective a good deal."

"Thank you, Brittney. I will certainly discuss it with Jane. How long, did you say, this temporary design will last?"

"Um, about two weeks. The paint is water resistant, but not water-proof so it eventually wears off."

"Thank you, again. You are very talented."

"Lemme see, Maur." Jane returned from the bar with another rum swizzle for Maura and a mojito for Faye.

Maura sighed and held out her arm. Jane leaned over and groaned. "Oh shit."

Kaye put on her reading glasses for a better look. "Oh boy. That'll be a tough one to explain around the office. Good thing it's winter."

"What is it, sweetie?" Faye reached for her wife's hand. "I'm dying of curiosity."

"Well…"

Jane's name was called and she quickly stripped off her shorts and tank, revealing a pomegranate colored string bikini. She strode purposely to the center of the pool deck, waving at her legions of fans. "Team Jane" banners were everywhere, and hundreds of women were wearing purple Amazon Army T-shirts with the nifty gold badges over the left breast.

Jane was usually very reluctant to show her body in public. Not out of shame for her physique; she knew she was trim and fit, but she was extremely self-conscious of her scars: the jagged entry wound in her abdomen that stood out white and fibrous against her tan skin and the matching exit wound in her back, larger and knotty. Maura had kissed each a dozen times the night before, calling them beautiful and her brave and beloved. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she dashed them away with a firm blink, pretending it was merely the sun glare that bothered her.

She climbed to the edge of the pool and faced her opponent, Poster-humping Patsy the Providence Pussy-Chaser. Patsy was sunburned all over, but not nearly as bad as Maura. She imagined the cool gelatin would feel good against that heated skin. _Good, let her relax in the soothing slime and I'll sink her. _Jane smirked at her nemesis. Millie-Joyce's voice sounded the count and at three, Jane swan-dived into the pool.

The Jello was not cool and soothing at all. It was warmish, heated by the sun and the thrashing bodies that had grappled in its depths. Jane was startled by the unexpected sensation and a little repulsed; it was like moving about in someone's innards. She pictured a corpse on Maura's autopsy table, cool to the touch, but still retaining a modicum of the warmth of life deep within. She shook off the image and reached through the ooze for her opponent.

Patsy was hamming it up for her friends who had pushed their way to the front of the crowd and were filming the match on their iphones. Jane wrapped a long arm around her shoulders pinning her arms in place. With a strategic kick to the back of her knees, the heavier woman went down and Jane stood on her back counting to fifteen with the cheering crowd.

"That was even easier than it looked." Jane bragged to her friends back at the table.

"It looked very sexy." Maura followed the cut of a ripped abdominal muscle with her finger and licked the Jello off of its tip.

Jane trembled at her touch, but her desire turned to laughter as she glimpsed the tattoo on the doctor's forearm. "I hope you have long-sleeved scrubs, babe."

"Maybe I like it, Jane. Maybe I'll wear sundresses for the next two weeks so everyone can see."

Jane swallowed hard. "No. Don't do that."

Maura picked up a hotdog from a full plate that Kaye had brought to the table and took an enormous bite. "Yummy." She licked a stray blot of mustard from her lip. Jane quivered at the sight of that talented pink tongue.

"I thought we were eating too much sodium, Maur?"

"You said we're on vacation and to fuck it, Jane."

"Right. I thought hot dogs were the devil; full of icky pieces that you don't want to know about—bull scrotums and chicken anuses."

"They are, but again, fuck it." Maura had finished her second rum swizzle and was now drinking a Corona.

Jane was wet in her bikini bottoms and it wasn't from the Jello; swearing, hot dog eating Maura with a raunchy tattoo was sexy as hell.

Jane drew a nervous young woman from Connecticut in the next round and used the same technique to take her down. She returned to the table and Kaye passed her an ice-cold beer.

"Here's the deal, Jane…" The police captain studied a chart she had etched on a blank page at the back of _A Balistreri Collection._ "You've made it to the semi-finals, so you're next opponent is either Millie-Joyce Ming, Beata Frankenmeier, or LaWandra Wilkins; none of them should be easy. You and Beata are about the same height, so you have no advantage in terms of reach and leverage and she outweighs you by… a lot. LaWandra is half a foot taller and a professional athlete in her prime, a dozen years your junior."

Jane glanced over at the 6'4" center of the Brooklyn Bridgers, women's basketball's newest franchise team. Heavy cords of muscle rippled under her ebony skin. "She's probably my last choice, not that I have any choice in it."

"Let's hope you draw Millie-Joyce." Faye said, the voice of optimism.

"Nope. You don't want her, Jane." Carl shook her head emphatically. "That woman is batshit crazy."

Millie-Joyce and Beata were both on stage, whooping it up in their gelatin dripping bikinis. The band played a boogie-woogie swing tune with a fast tempo and the pair danced a perfectly synchronized Lindy, ending with the tennis legend swinging the diva under her legs, pulling her back, rolling her across her shoulders and dipping her suggestively to the stage floor.

"See." Carl pointed at the pair. "Millie-Joyce has the strength of a lunatic. Could you flip Beata like that?"

"Sure." Jane bragged. "I've taken down lots of men bigger than her in the course of my career."

Maura raised a questioning eyebrow. "Tackling a two hundred fifty pound man with a running start is not the same as wrestling one to the ground on even footing."

"And keeping him…um, her there for fifteen seconds." Carl added.

Jane waved a dismissive hand at her table of nay-sayers. _Jane Rizzoli is a winner, a scrapper, a survivor._

"Would you like to try a yogic mind-centering exercise, baby?" Maura asked.

"Fuck no. I'd like to try another beer to relax my mind, but the bucket is empty." She looked pointedly at Carl.

"I'm on it, my queen."

A member of the cruise director's staff in a crisp white Olivia T-shirt took the stage. "Good afternoon, ladies. Is everyone enjoying the carnival?"

"Yes!" The crowd roared back.

"Good. I know I'm not as entertaining as our two celebrity cruise directors, but you're all stuck with me until the end of our Jell-O Grudge Match. Millie-Joyce and Beata have made it into the semis and it wouldn't be fair to have them draw their own rivals. So without further ado, I will pick the names at random from my vagina pouch, and may the best lesbian win."

Faye leaned over to her wife. "Did she say she was going to pick the names out of her vagina? That doesn't sound very hygienic. Is she wearing gloves?"

"No, love, she's holding a pink purse with brown furry fringe. It's meant to look like a vagina, but really it more closely resembles a mangy muppet."

"Oh." The blind doctor smiled in understanding, perfectly picturing the handbag in her mind.

"Millie-Joyce Ming." The cruise director read the first name and the tennis legend ran to the Jello pit, beating her fists against her breasts and yodeling Tarzan-like. "LaWandra Wilkins." The basketball star flashed a peace sign at the crowd and and cooly returned to her friends.

"Okay, Jane. You've drawn Beata. It's all about leverage. Use her momentum against her." Kaye coached.

"Got it."

Millie-Joyce defeated LaWandra in under a minute. The basketballer looked over her shoulder in stunned shock as she exited the pool. Her opponent was nearly a foot smaller and 42 years older than her. How the fuck did she do it? Millie-Joyce was doing an obscene victory dance, gyrating her hips and thrusting her crotch against her own hand.

"You're up, Jane." Maura pulled her close and kissed her hungrily, her tongue thrust deep into Jane's receptive mouth. "Get her, my panther." She growled.

Beata sat on the edge of the pool, her legs crossed daintily at the knees. She batted her eyelashes and smiled sweetly as Jane approached. "Jane, let's be ladies, shall we?"

"Absolutely." The detective agreed.

When the count of three was reached, the diva lunged in a decidedly unladylike manner and knocked Jane to the bottom of the pool. The astonished detective was disoriented and swallowed a huge gulp of Jello as she went down. A second gulp shot from her mouth as Beata sat on her back, forcing all the air from her lungs in a rush. She fought through the panic and used the lubricating properties of the gelatin to wiggle herself free. She broke the surface, gasping for air and propelled herself onto the submerged diva's back. Beata broke the surface, roaring like a hydra, her arms reaching around to pluck at the lighter woman clinging to her. The same lubricating properties caused Jane to slip, and she slid down the diva's torso and back into the muck. Jane felt around blindly in the ooze until her hands found a large, solid calf. She used the landmark to orient herself and then head-butted the heavier woman squarely in her buttocks. She fell with a loud squelch and Jane sat, not on her back, but her neck, using her center of gravity against her. The count reached fifteen and Jane jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms skyward and roaring. Green goo ran down the black panther on her biceps, revealing the delicate floral name of the woman who loved her. "Maura!" She roared again. "Maura!"

Beata's head popped out of the gunk and she spit out a stream of green. "Congratulations, Jane."

Jane reached down a hand and pulled her from the slime. "No hard feeling, B?"

"None." The diva hugged her. "Get Ming." She whispered in her ear.

Jane returned to the table and kissed her girlfriend like only a victor can kiss or a soldier returning from a long war overseas. "I love you, baby." she rasped into the messy unbraided ringlets.

"I love you too, Jane. Could you do one thing for me before you return to battle?"

"Anything, my love."

"Scratch my back."

Jane laughed, bending the doctor over and giving her a thorough double-handed scrub up and down her spine and across her shoulders. Maura sighed and purred like a contented puppy, her tattooed forearm hanging limply at her side.

Beata Frankenmeier took the stage, wiping her face with an Olivia-embossed beach towel. She graciously praised Jane's prowess and began revving up the crowd for the big finale. She gave a signal to the drummer and he thumped out a familiar beat, _boom-boom chick, boom-boom chick, boom-boom chick_. The diva clapped her hands in time, and soon the whole crowd was doing the same. She raised the microphone to her lips and sang, "Buddy, you're a boy make a big noise playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day…"

After the last "We Will Rock You" was chanted by the crowd, Beata introduced the finalists.

"You're going down, Ming!" Jane called from her seat on Maura's lap.

"That's what she said." Millie-Joyce threw back her head and laughed into the sea breeze, a yipping ululation that made the fine hairs on Jane's arms stand erect in protest. The woman was insane.

"I've never lost a match, Rizzoli. I am the undefeated Jell-O champion. I eat, dream, and shit Jell-O. Jell-O runs through my veins. I sweat Jell-O. The milk in my tits is Jell-O. When I come, I come Jell-O. Give up now or die by Jell-O!"

The band launched into "Eye of the Tiger" and Millie-Joyce danced and shadowboxed in place, kicking her legs high in the air before dropping to a squat and Cossack dancing around the perimeter of the pool, punctuating each kick with a high-pitched squeal.

Maura took Jane's hand in her own. "Be careful; she appears to be in a manic episode. I don't want to see you hurt."

Jane rolled her eyes. "That's just posturing, Maura. She's older than my mother. This should be a piece of cake after defeating Beata; that was a match I was a little worried about."

The doctor shrugged. "Beata isn't manic and Millie-Joyce is very agile. You saw how she cartwheeled down the beach in St. Thomas; neither of us could do that despite being three decades her junior."

Millie-Joyce was still ranting as Jane approached the Jell-O pit. "I am Ming the Mighty, Ming the Magnificent, Ming the Merciless. Give up now, Jane."

Jane rolled her eyes and gestured with one hand. "Bring it, Ming."

"Oh, I will. I will." She nodded vigorously and a glob of gelatin clinging to her glasses broke loose and rolled down her cheek.

Beata and the entire crowd counted to three and Jane stepped calmly into the pool. Millie-Joyce yipped crazily, her teeth nipping at the air as she rushed the taller woman. The two went down in a tangle of limbs. No one emerged for a full minute, but the roiling and squelching of the gelatin told of an epic battle being fought below the surface. Dr. Concepcion stood up on her lifeguard chair and peered down into the pool. She frowned and checked her watch. Another five seconds passed and Millie-Joyce's head broke the surface. "Start counting." She gasped.

Everyone counted in unison. At thirteen, Millie-Joyce slipped, but righted herself quickly and the count reached fourteen. Maura held her breath, digging her nails into her palms. Faye and Kaye held hands tightly, gritting their teeth and Big Carl paced, wringing her hands.

"Fifteen." Beata declared. "Millie-Joyce Ming, ladies!" She gestured to the howling legend. "Your undefeated Jell-O Champion fourteen years in a row."

Jane shot to the surface, taking in huge gulps of sweet air. Dr. Concepcion knelt by the poolside and asked if she was injured. "I'm fine." She gasped. "Only…my..pride…is …hurt." She rested her hands on the side of the pool, still breathing heavily and then boosted herself up and out. Millie-Joyce was running a victory lap around the pool deck to the delight of the cheering crowd, but she stopped and jogged back to shake Jane's hand.

"You are unbelievable, Ming."

"I know. You can't win twenty Wimbledon titles without having the killer instinct." She winked at her defeated rival and resumed her victory lap.

"What happened, Jane?" Kaye met her with an icy cold beer and a towel.

Jane shook her head. "She has the killer instinct. She bit me, twisted my nipples and shoved her fingers up my ass. I gave up before she could do worse."

"I told you." Carl said. "She's batshit crazy."

Jane dropped to her knees in front of the woman she loved and rested her sticky green face in Maura's lap. "You're always a winner to me, Jane."

Jane nodded and kissed a soft, freckled hand, the pulse point on a delicate ivory wrist and finally, with a smile, the pornographic tattoo on the inside of her beloved's forearm. She examined it closely; it was an uncanny likeness. Jane, gloriously naked, tan and rippling with muscle rode a rocket-propelled pink dildo over a rainbow, her unruly mane of ebony curls blowing out behind her and her erect brown nipples pointing toward the sun.

She chuckled. "This is a keeper, Maur."

"I don't think so, love. One Jane Rizzoli on my body is enough."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Our girls are heading back north to Boston. I think two more chapters will wrap this up. Thanks for continuing with me. Let's cast this! Who do you think should play Carl? Millie-Joyce? Beata? Coco? Faye and Kaye? I have a definite picture of all our cruisers in my mind, but I'm curious to hear what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hi all, sorry it's been a bit longer than usual for an update...crazy week. This chapter hasn't been edited; my dear friend and co-conspirator is in Europe with her gal on a well deserved vacation. Margaret and Efrat: I wish you as much fun in Barcelona as Jane and Maura are having on their cruise. Our usual process is that I birth the conjoined triplets, grunting and screaming with effort, and Margaret cleans up the afterbirth, cuts the cord and wraps the little ones in a clean blanket. Thanks for all you do, MB; Seasick would be a poorer tale without you. This may be messy and I know it's long, but I didn't want to lose momentum, so here it is.

* * *

><p>"Ohhh, Oh God. Huuuuuuuhhhh."<p>

Jane's eyes shot open. "Maura?" Her girlfriend was definitely not in the bed and the sounds were coming from below, way below, on the floor.

"Maura what are you doing?"

"I'm…oh…I'm just scratching an itch."

The doctor had wedged herself into the narrow crevice between the bed and the wall. She was writhing in the small space, her shoulders shimmying and her hips wiggling as she pressed herself into the pink and turquoise swirled carpeting. Jane watched her for a moment, mesmerized by the undulating movement of full breasts bouncing against a taut ribcage.

"You need some help, babe? That's what I'm here for; you don't need to…ahem…scratch any of your itches yourself anymore."

"Jane, I'm not masturbating. I'm having a dermal pruritoceptive episode."

"Like an epileptic fit?"

"No. The nociceptors in my epidermis are firing at an alarming rate causing the most uncomfortable sensation. The only relief is to…oooh…scratch."

Jane laughed despite herself. "You look like Jo Friday after a bath."

"Mmmph." Maura grunted. "The scratch reflex is common to all mammals, all vertebrates, in fact, who have sensory neurons with peripheral terminals located on the surface of their bodies."

"I don't know what's sexier, your google talk or those bouncy titties." She offered a hand and Maura pulled herself up, flopping face down across the mattress.

"Do your best, Jane."

Jane scoured the red and peeling back with firm scrubs from her close-cut fingernails, translucent slivers of dead skin coming off with each scratch. Maura purred and sighed in pleasure beneath her.

"Did you know…" The doctor freed her lecture finger from under a pillow and raised it vaguely in Jane's direction. "… studies have shown that relief of an itch outweighs sexual release in the hierarchy of human pleasure?"

"Oh? I can do both. I have two hands…and a mouth."

"The way I feel this morning, you'd need as many arms as Vishnu to scratch me."

Jane smiled and rested her lips against a freckled shoulder, kissing a patch of skin she had scratched nearly raw. She worked her mouth up to the nape of Maura's neck and suckled a sensitive spot she had discovered under her girlfriend's hair. "So sex is second to itchiness?" She murmured against Maura's ear, tugging at a pink earlobe with her teeth.

Maura whimpered. Jane could feel the struggle within her partner; the mind wanting to blather on about pleasure hierarchies and the Hindu pantheon and the body wanting nothing more than to be kissed and licked and filled with long, tan fingers. The lecture finger wavered as gooseflesh appeared in the wake of Jane's gentled caress.

"Mmm…fourth, Jane. Sexual release is fourth." The finger stood erect again, Maura's genius brain overcoming the the desire of her body. _Her body is a genius, too._ Jane thought. _It__'__s just as perfectly formed as her mind, maybe more so._

"Sex also ranks below the quenching of thirst and the alleviation of the need to urinate. It does, however, eclipse the satisfaction of hunger."

"So…" Jane brushed hard brown nipples against the doctor's shoulder blades, eliciting another soft whimper. "…people would rather lay around scratching themselves, guzzling beer and peeing than come, but they'd rather starve than give up fucking."

"Umm…essentially." Maura panted, almost losing the train of her thought. "That's part of the reason why birth rates remain so high in the developing world where starvation is a real th….oh, Jane." The lecture finger crumpled as Maura grasped the sheets with both hands.

Jane had spread the ivory flesh of Maura's firm ass and was grinding herself against the sensitive bud within, her other hand worked rhythmically between Maura's legs.

Maura's brilliant mind had gone blank, overloaded by all the sensory data flooding in from her body; the peppery scent of Jane's skin on the sheets beneath her, the tickle of Jane's erect nipples against her shoulders, the nipping of her mouth and teeth at her throat, Jane's warm wetness sliding down the seam of her ass and the strong fingers moving deftly within her as a thumb worked her clit. She spread her legs further and hooked her calves around Jane's. They were one being now, working toward the same end in tandem.

"Maura…Maur…now?" Jane rasped in her ear.

"Say it, Jane. Tell me."

"Love you…" Jane growled, and then. "I'm coming."

"Yesssss." Maura was over the edge with her. They collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the mattress.

Jane lay still, only her heart hammered loudly against Maura's spine. She imagined the doctor's ribcage parting and her own lacing itself in so they would fit together always, like a Chinese puzzle box or the joists and trusses of a cathedral roof. Tears sprang to her eyes. "You're my other half, Maura."

"I know and you're mine."

Reluctantly she rolled off of her lover and pulled the smaller woman against her chest. Maura reached down and found the blanket, snugging it tight around their shoulders. She looked out the balcony door to a sea that was rough and dark, jagged waves of graphite bucked and retreated toward the horizon and the air itself looked dank and grey. She burrowed closer to Jane who was warm and safe and sunkissed. "You're an amazing lover, Jane; intuitive, giving, skilled." She punctuated each attribute with a kiss.

"Nah. It's you, babe. I spent years fantasizing about making love to you. The reality just proves what a small mind I have."

"I did too, Jane."

"Hmm?"

"You've been the star of my every fantasy for years."

"Really?" Jane beamed at the ceiling.

"Yes, but not only sexually….I mean, yes, I thought of you every single time I've come, but I have fantasies, daydreams, about the more mundane aspects of our daily lives."

"I do, too, Maura. Tell me one of yours."

Maura blushed, laying her cheek against Jane's muscular shoulder, she spoke quietly into her girlfriend's collarbone. "When I wake in the morning, I like to pretend that you're next to me, growling about the alarm. I always say, 'Okay, Jane. I'll hit snooze one more time and then you're getting up.' I do hit snooze and hug my pillow against my chest, pretending it's you."

"Oh, babe." Jane kissed the messy head, spilling gold and chestnut tresses across her chest.

"Tell me one of yours."

"Laundry." Jane stated.

"You hate to do laundry."

"It's a boring job, but in my mind I'm washing our clothes, our panties and bras and…everything, all jumbled together, like they belong that way, like we're family. I separate your things and fold them as best I can and then you come in and tell me how it's all wrong."

Maura lifted her head and frowned. "That's not a very flattering fantasy."

"Oh, but it is. You're super cute when you're mad. You get all huffy and put your hands on your hips and…I just melt, Maur."

"Fine. When we live together, you can be in charge of laundry."

"Okay, but I'm sure there will be a list of instructions as thick as one of your Russian novels."

"Not quite that long, but I do like my delicates washed a certain way."

"Mmm-hmmm. Your panties are hand-sewn from butterfly wings and they can only be dry cleaned in Paris using the Méthode Champenoise."

Maura poked her, but laughed. "I imagine us grocery shopping together, fighting about every item that goes into the cart. I'll pick out organic vegetables, lean proteins and grains. You'll sneak Devil's Dongs and Cheese Doodies when I'm not looking."

Jane snorted. "Devil's Dongs? I'm picturing a chocolate cake growing out of satan's crotch." She wiped a tear from her eye. "But I'm sure that's exactly what will happen. It's going to be wonderful."

"I know." They kissed softly. "What are we going to do, Jane? I don't want to sleep alone anymore."

"Do? I guess you could pack up your gigantic turtle, your art and books, your apartment-sized closet of designer clothing and move in with me. I'll push my hockey sticks aside to make room for you."

Maura's nostrils flared in distaste and Jane snickered, catching her lover's unconscious gesture.

"Babe, I already spend more time at your place than my own and you have my ma, so I may as well move in."

Maura relaxed. "I'm going to brush out your hair every night before we go to sleep. I've fantasized about that as well." She imagined her boar bristle brush combing through ebony tresses until they shone like onyx.

"Good. You can pluck the grey hairs out with a tweezer. I'll let you in on a secret…"

"Yes?" Maura's eyes shone with expectation.

"Tommy does that for me now. He comes over at least once a week and tweezes my greys in my kitchen. He teases me terribly about it, too. It will be nice to be rid of that ritual."

"He must be good, Jane. I've never seen a gray hair on you."

"I have plenty. I guess he is good."

"I have plenty as well, but I just go a little blonder every year to cover it."

"I'd be a terrible blonde."

"Yes, you would. Don't ever do that, Jane." Maura hesitated, then blurted out. "What about work?"

"What about it? Didn't you say everyone already assumes we're together?"

"Yes, but should we make a formal announcement?"

Jane squirmed. "How? Like stand up in the squad room and tell everyone we're doing it? Crowe and Martinez will have a field day with that information. Fuckin' douches."

Maura shrugged. "I'm going to tell Susie."

"That's fine." Jane sensed her girlfriend was disappointed. "Maybe we could have a little housewarming party when I move in, invite all the people we care about…Frost and Korsak, Susie, Sean."

"I'd like that, Jane."

"Good." She pressed her nose into Maura's hair and breathed in the clean scent of vanilla and citrus. "I'm sorry to see this vacation end, but I'm really looking forward to starting our new life."

"I am too."

"Do you want to snuggle some more or get up?"

"We should probably get up. It's our last day and I'm a bit peckish."

"Aha, the old pleasure hydroxy. Your itches have been scratched, you came, now you need to pee and drink some coffee and then have breakfast."

"Exactly, but first a shower. You still have lime gelatin in your hair."

Maura reluctantly extracted herself from her lover's embrace and stood, just in time to answer the knock at the cabin door. She wrapped herself in a towel and peered through the peephole. Millie-Joyce Ming paced in the hallway. With a sigh she turned the handle and the tennis legend bounded into the room.

She stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air, her nose twitching under her large glasses. "Whoa! It's like walking into a vagina. You two have been fuuuuuuckiiiiiiiing." She threw herself onto the bed next to Jane and buried her face in the sheets, sniffling and snorting. "Yup. I smell pussy. This bed stinks like the locker room at Roland Garros after the Women's Doubles finals."

"You're nuts, Ming."

"Yes, but only one week a year. On Monday morning I'll be back behind a desk at the Lesbian Sports Foundation trying to squeeze grant money out of rich douchehoses. I live for this annual cruise when I can let my hair down, pubes and all."

She lay back against the pillows and took off her glasses, polishing them on a corner of the sheet. "You two can bump uglies any old time, but there's only one day left to party, so throw on your gay rags and meet me in the Spinnaker Lounge. Lesbolympics begins in…" She checked her big pink digital wristwatch. "…an hour and ten minutes."

"Jane needs to wash her hair and I really need to eat." Maura explained.

"Eat? Isn't that what you've been doing all morning?" She leaned in and sniffed at Jane's mouth.

"Back off, Ming."

Maura looked confused and then her eyes widened. "Oh! You're using a slang expression for cunnilingus! Very clever, Milllie-Joyce, but that particular act was not in the rotation for today."

"Maura!" Jane growled.

"You rotate? I love it, keeps things fresh." She leaped from the bed and skipped three steps to the cabin door. "Spinnaker in an hour so skip the shower. Lunch will be provided. Don't you want to win, Rizzoli? Or have you resigned yourself to being a loser after you were Ming-ed in the Jello pit?"

"We'll be there, Ming. You can count on it and we will win."

"That's what I like to hear." She grabbed her crotch and thrust her pelvis toward the couple. "Twat-a-loo!" She sang as she exited the stateroom. Before Maura could close the door completely, she popped her head back in. "Nice ink, by the way. It's like carrying your own porn with you. You can just stare at your arm when you want to slam the clam, rub the nub, stroke the yolk, hit the slit, buff the muff, scratch the snatch, wrench the trench, slap the meat flap, rooter the cooter, squish the fish…"

"Out, Ming." Jane sprang from the bed and closed the door while Maura bent over, holding her sides, nearly breathless with laughter.

* * *

><p>The lounge was crammed beyond capacity with sweatsuit-clad women, the cooler weather keeping everyone indoors. Jane slid a protective arm around Maura's waist, resting a hand on her hipbone, as she attempted to steer them through the crowd toward the small circular stage. Once they passed the buffet tables, the crowd thinned and they were able to approach the sign-up station.<p>

A friendly woman from Botswana, wearing the pressed white uniform of the cruise line greeted them. "Good morning, ladies. Will you be competing today?"

Maura replied. "Dumela. O tsogile jang?"

The woman's smile lit her face and she covered her grinning mouth in astonishment. "Ke tsogile sentle. I haven't heard my native language in nearly a year. Ke itumetse, mma."

"Show off." Jane rasped in her ear, earning her a sharp poke to the ribs.

"But where did you learn to speak Setswana?"

"I had the pleasure of working with Médecins Sans Frontières near Sowa many years ago. You come from a beautiful country."

The woman nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Ee. Yes, I do." She signed them up and asked if they had already joined a team or should she randomly assign them to one.

"We haven't. I suppose random is fine." Maura answered.

"No. Random is not fine. I want to win and to win we can't be randomly saddled with a bunch of losers. We'll make our own team and hand-pick our teammates."

"We don't know what the events are, Jane, so we may pick unwisely. A random sampling would afford the greatest probability of a positive outcome since in any group there is likely to be…

"Bullshit." Jane cut her off. "If you needed an operation, would you want a random dipshit dragged off the street to cut into you or a surgeon that you had personally picked? If your car broke down, would you want it fixed by the next fuckup who walked in the door, or a trained mechanic?"

"You're talking about a specialized skill set for which the requirements are known in advance; it's apples and orangutans, Jane. When the skill set remains an unknown, a random sampling is the best course of action."

Jane snorted. "The term is 'apples and oranges', Maur. It means to compare two very different things."

"Obviously, detective, apples and orangutans are far more different than two fruits of roughly the same size and shape." She smirked.

"You got me there, Maura. So we're going with random?"

"No, let's make our own team, but be sure to include a wide variety of women with different strengths and weaknesses." She turned to the friendly Motswana. "May we come back with our prospective team members?"

"Certainly." She consulted her list. "You will be the blue team. She smiled again and wished them both "O nne le masego."

Jane turned away from the table and then thought of a question. "How many to a team?"

"Eight." She reached under her table and passed Jane a neatly folded stack of blue T-shirts, each stamped with five conjoined female symbols and "Lesbolympics".

Maura eyed the buffet tables, the food was hidden from sight by the press of bodies, three deep in most places. "Jane, I'm very hungry."

"Okay. Stay here, I'll fight my way through the waddling vultures and get you something. I'm not promising steak tartare and ostrich eggs; you'll have to make due with what I can snag."

"That's fine." The doctor nodded agreeably, but as soon as Jane turned her back she added. "No partially hydrogenated fats or anything containing high fructose corn syrup."

Jane waved over her shoulder. "Yes, dear."

Maura wrinkled her nose in distaste at her girlfriend's offering of a soggy cheese danish, a wilted slice of pizza, liberally studded with pepperoni disks, and an enormous pistachio muffin that someone had already taken a bite from. With a roll of her eyes, she reached for the danish and unhappily nibbled at its edge.

"Sorry, babe. I promise as soon as we disembark, we can make a grocery run to Whole Foods and you can load up on goose-goose and kale and organic sea fungus. I won't try to sneak anything into the cart."

"Of course not; they don't sell Devil Dongs at Whole Foods, but they do have yummy gluten-free cookies with carob chips in place of chocolate; you can have as many of those as you like."

"Yay!" Jane clapped her hands with false enthusiasm, then stuck her finger in her mouth and mimicked vomiting. "Eat your lunch, babe, and then we'd better get our team together before everyone good is snatched up and we're left with a bunch of decrepit bench warmers."

Maura balanced the pastry between her teeth and drew out their roster sheet. "I think we should ask Lucy."

Jane groaned. "She's not…athletic."

"Neither am I, Jane. I've always been the last to be picked for any team and I'm sure she has as well. It hurts."

Jane stood silently scowling at the carpet with it's running pattern of anchors and ship's wheels, torn between disappointment at the thought of her big olympic win slipping away and shame at placing such a win over another person's feelings. "Fine." She relented and headed across the room to the small woman in the power wheelchair. She returned with Lucy who was beaming and already wearing her blue Lesbolympics T-shirt.

"Lucy, you're our first choice. Let's all put our heads together and come up with five more teammates."

"I'm first?" Her eyes filled with tears. "I've never been anyone's first choice for anything."

"Nor have I." Maura confided. "Jane wouldn't even let me join her softball team for years."

"Really? But Jane is…wonderful." Lucy stared at the tall detective with stars in her eyes.

Jane rolled her own eyes and snatched the roster sheet from her girlfriend's hand. "I want LaWandra Wilkens and Beata. If we have those two powerhouses, we may actually stand a chance of winning."

"LaWandra, Beata and Coco." Maura corrected.

"Right." Jane agreed. _Coco was small, but wiry. She wouldn__'__t be as much of an asset as her girlfriend, but she would do._

"They're at the spa, Jane, having their erotic hydro-colonic couples enema. Don't you remember?"

"Eww, how could I forget? Beata described it in such extravagant detail over dessert last night. It almost made me stop eating my chocolate mousse."

"No, it didn't. You finished your mousse and mine and then half of Faye's when Kaye wasn't looking." Maura tapped the bezel of her Tag Heuer. "Beata and Coco should be finished. Why don't you run up to the spa and ask them. Lucy and I will track down LaWandra Wilkens."

Jane knew she'd have better luck recruiting a professional athlete to their cause than the unlikely team of Dr. Isles and her wheelchair-bound friend, but the determined set of Maura's jaw told her not to argue. She kissed her girlfriend on top of the head and took off at a jog.

When she returned, Maura and Lucy were happily chatting with Faye and Kaye who, to Jane's dismay, were both wearing blue T-shirts. _Shit. There goes any chance of a gold medal. _

"Any luck, Jane?" Lucy asked.

"Beata and Coco are on board. They're just soaking their sore asses in the jacuzzi. They'll be down in a few minutes."

"Good." Maura pronounced. "We have our team."

"Did you get LaWandra?" _Jane held on to the slim hope that the star basketballer would make the difference between a last place finish and a__…__a win? Impossible._

"No." Maura waved her hand dismissively. "She declined. She and her friends have formed their own team; they're all very tall. But, I did manage to convince Faye and Kaye to sign with us… and Carla." She smiled, showcasing two deep dimples and Jane's heart melted. They would be cremated, but Maura loved her.

The Olympic anthem began to play and the chattering crowd grew quiet, everyone looking around for the source. A thick fog rose from the floor of the circular stage, tendrils swirled around the legs of the grand piano, thinning as it dispersed into the surrounding air. A trapdoor in the stage floor opened and a figure ascended through the mist, wearing a lavender track suit and carrying a dildo-shaped torch. She stood solemnly until the music ended then bounced up and down swinging the flaming phallus. Even shrouded in fog, the mystery woman could be none other than four time US Open winner, Millie-Joyce Ming. She grabbed the microphone and yodeled. "Yo-do-lay-he-homos!"

"Ming!" A thousand voices shouted back.

"What's up, Lesbos?" Millie-Joyce shouted. "Is everyone ready to run their tits off around this ship?"

"Hell yeah!" Was the general response.

"Have you all fueled up on our delicious buffet?"

"This food is shit!" Someone shouted from the side of the room.

"Hear! Hear!" Maura seconded, waving her flaccid danish over her head.

The room erupted in whistles and hoots.

"Hey, hey, simmer down, ladies. This is the last day of the cruise. You ate up everything worth eating already and I mean that sexually as well. Seriously, is anyone still single here?"

A few hands went up.

"How is that possible? Beautiful weather, free-flowing alcohol, bikinis, dildos…Damn, I should just pair you off and send you to a dark corner to make out."

Jane wrapped her arms around Maura's waist and pulled her close. "We both arrived single." She whispered.

"Yes and we had our very first kiss as a couple on that stage, albeit a chaste kiss on the cheek."

Jane bent over and kissed her girlfriend's soft cheek and then her lips.

Millie-Joyce whistled into the microphone. "Rizzoli, didn't you get enough this morning? I had to drag Detective Jane from bed, pulled her kicking and screaming from Maura's vagina. Their cabin was dripping with sex; I thought I had slipped into the folds of a labia."

Jane rolled her eyes, but Maura giggled in her arms. The genius doctor found Ming's crude humor unaccountably hilarious.

"You never laugh like that at my jokes, Maur."

"I don't understand your jokes, Jane. You know I don't comprehend sarcasm. Millie-Joyce is so outrageous that even I get it."

"I guess."

"Don't pout, Jane. I'm sure you're very funny."

"I am. I'm a fucking one-woman clown car."

Maura drew her brows together. "Doesn't the humor of a clown car come from the fact that there are so many individuals crammed within the small space?"

"Yes."

"Then a clown car occupied by only one clown would lose it's comic impact."

"Yup."

"I just don't understand your humor, Jane."

They returned their attention to the stage where Millie-Joyce had shed her track suit and was strutting across the small stage in a black unitard decorated with a three-dimensional vulva. A bright pink clit protruded from the middle of her torso.

"That looks like one of your Georgia O'Keeffe paintings." Maura whispered.

Jane was about to protest, but the doctor was right.

"Wheee-hah!" The tennis star shrieked, rubbing vigorously at her painted-on clitoris. "Last day Lesbolympics, lezzoids! If you can't be an athlete, you can still bet on one. We're in international waters, so the casino is open. Once our oddsmakers get a look at the teams, they'll post the numbers and you can wager your twats off. Titty trifecta, anyone? Pussy perfecta? You can bet it all and win a bundle. Don't forget the colored T-shirts of your favorite team are for sale in the gift shop and at the kiosk on the pool deck. Show your team spirit or even better, take off the T-shirt and show your tits!"

"Tits! Tits! Tits!" A chant began in the back of the room and soon everyone was screaming along. Millie-Joyce bounded off the stage howling and ran through the crowd, cramming her appliqué pussy into the faces of random women. Everyone good-naturedly took a lick. When the cheering had reached a frenzy level, she sprung back onto the stage and leaped on top of the grand piano."Citius, Altius, Fortius is the Olympic motto…" She panted.

"Faster, higher, stronger." Faye translated.

"But the Lesbolympic motto is: Clitius, Assius, Pussius!"

"Yeah!" The crowd screamed, fists pumping in the air.

"There are four teams and three events." Millie-Joyce held three fingers above her head. "In each event, the first place team will earn three points, the second place, two and the third place, one. The team with the most points after all three events wins gold. Second place wins…" She held the microphone out to the crowd.

"Silver!" Everyone shouted.

"Third place wins…"

"Bronze!" Came the loud response.

"Fourth place wins…"

There was silence. "Shit!" Someone heckled from the back of the room.

"That's correct. Shit! Put your team shirts on, ladies. I hope they're nice and tight; it's a little chilly so those nippies should pop nicely. First event begins in ten minutes on the pool deck."

* * *

><p>Jane looked around at her teammates who were all grinning merrily, jogging in place and giving one another encouraging thumps on the back. <em>We<em>_'__re fucked. _She thought. _Two senior citizens, one of whom was blind, a fragile woman in a wheelchair, an overweight opera singer, two women under five feet tall and Maura, who was brilliant and smoking hot, but couldn__'__t catch a softball even if it was lobbed to her underhand._ Carl had run to the casino to check their odds and just as Jane had suspected, Team Blue was expected to come in dead last. Maura had bet $1000 on them to win, but even with such an enormous wager, they were a longshot at 50-1.

"We should give ourselves a name. 'The Blue Team' is so boring."

"We're like the Bad News Bears." Carl laughed. "Can we be the Bad News Boobs?"

Millie-Joyce mounted the steps to the gazebo stage, shivering in her vaginal unitard. It was cool on the exposed pool deck, but bearable when the sun appeared from behind its cover of clouds. The band struck up a tune, Devo's classic "Whip It", the faux-rasta Filipino drummer, sang in heavily accented English from behind his drum kit. Beata twitched and looked longingly toward the stage, itching to be up there singing. Millie-Joyce began to dance, a Roger Rabbit/pony hybrid and soon she was sweating instead of shivering. She pulled a black leather horse whip from a box of props and flicked it about the stage a few times then jammed the end of it into her crotch, gyrating her hips so the whip flew in circles and figure eights over the stage. When the song ended, she tossed it into the crowd. "Whoever catches this wins dinner for two at the all-you-can-eat buffet on deck 12." A hundred women fell over each other to get at it.

"Isn't buffet always free and all-you-can-eat?" Maura asked.

"Yes. That's sarcasm, babe."

"She's funnier when she's being perverted."

"Are we ready for our first event?" Millie-Joyce asked the crowd.

"Yeah!"

"Event number one of Lesbolympics 2014 is Tug of War, also known as Don't Fall in the Shit Pit." She waved her arm and the same tarp that had covered the kiddie pool the day before was removed, revealing a thick brown lake of…

"Feces?" Maura asked, wrinkling her nose.

Carl squatted at the edge and poked a tentative finger into the morass. She pulled it out and sniffed and then licked it. "Chocolate pudding." She confirmed.

"I'd hate to take a plunge into that so soon after our erotic enema." Beata frowned at the quivering brown pool.

"That's right." Coco agreed.

The red and yellow teams were up first, each standing in a line on opposite sides of the pool, a thick rope with a rainbow pennant tied to its center stretched across the pit between them. Jane and Kaye studied the formation of the tuggers, planning their own strategy. Both teams had anchored their lines with their heaviest pullers.

"That's what we should do." Kaye gestured. "The heaviest goes in the back, but unfortunately, that means the weakest will probably be pulled into the muck."

"I'm the heaviest." Beat stepped forward.

"No, I am." Lucy rolled herself toward the center of the group.

"What are you talking about, Lu? I've carried you twice. I'd be surprised if you weighed a hundred pounds."

"I don't, but in my chair I'm over 350 and if I put my brakes on, I'm practically immovable."

"That just might work!" Jane's heart soared with hope. "I could kiss you, Lucy."

"Oh, please do." She batted coquettish lashes.

Jane bent over and planted a warm kiss on her temple.

The crowd was on its feet, groaning as two players on the yellow team were pulled precariously close to the edge of the shit pit and then with a final tug by Team Red over and into the ooze. The rainbow pennant had crossed the pool and the winners dropped the rope, pumping their fists in victory.

Millie-Joyce spun in circles around the pool. "Sooo-eeee, sooo-eeeee!" She grunted and snorted and pig called, one finger jammed under the tip of her nose to make it into a snout. "Do our piggies like their shit bath? Soooo-eeeee! Shit pit claims its first two victims."

"Shit pit! Shit pit! Shit pit!" The crowd roared.

The Bad News Boobs stepped up to the the pit and picked up the rope. Coco looped the end around the wheelchair and Lucy backed up fifteen feet and hit the power brakes. With such a heavy anchor, Beata was free to take up the first position with the rest of the team behind her in descending size order. The big diva grinned across the pool at the frontline of Team Green, gesturing that they would soon be under six thousand gallons of chocolate pudding, then she blew them a kiss.

"Bullshit!" LaWandra Wilkens countered; she was anchoring for her team. "I feel bad, yo, pulling a bunch of grannies and handicaps into the pit, but y'all going down."

"We may be grannies, but Millie-Joyce kicked your ass in the Jello pool and she's our age. I hope you like chocolate as much as you like lime." Kaye had stepped out from behind Jane to taunt the basketballer.

"Remember to lean back and pull with your legs; the rectus femoris and vasti medialis, intermedius and lateralis are far stronger than any of the muscles in your upper body." Maura exhorted her teammates from her spot behind Kaye.

"We should all pull in tandem, like crew members on a racing shell. I rowed in college and I can't stress enough how important the rhythm set by the coxswain is." Faye added from behind Maura.

"I'll set the rhythm, girls. Pull on my downbeat, but I hope to end this quickly." Beata assured them.

There was a shriek overhead and Milllie-Joyce swung over the pit on a bungee cord, strapped to the railing on the sun deck above. "Wheeeee!" She screamed, swinging back the other way. "On the count of three…."

The spectators counted in unison and on three, Beata threw herself backwards crashing heavily into Jane and sending the first two Green Team members into the pit. The rainbow pennant came within an inch of crossing the pool's edge, but LaWandra and her remaining team held fast, pulling the pennant a precious six inches toward themselves while Beata adjusted her grip.

"Okay, on Beata's signal pull like your twat is on fire and LaWandra is the holding the fire hose." Jane ordered.

The diva inhaled, her massive lungs filling like twin zeppelins, expanding her ribcage. She opened her mouth and sang. "Day-o…pull…Day-o…pull…daylight…pull…and we wanna…pull…home." Her trained voice carried across the deck.

On each downbeat the team tugged smoothly on the line. Carl and Coco fed the few inches of slack behind them to Lucy who unlocked her brake, moved back accordingly and locked again.

The spectators cheered loudly as the underdogs gained on LaWandra and her hulking friends inch by inch. Shouts of "Day-o" resounded from the bleachers and Millie-Joyce swung across the pool again with a banana in her hand just as Beata reached the line, "Come Mr. tally man, tally me banana."

LaWandra had dug her heels in and was leaning backwards at a 45° angle, but one woman alone could not hold the line. The Green Team was losing ground and with a loud "motherfucker", a third green shirt skidded into the pit.

"Shit pit! Shit pit! Shit pit!"

LaWandra groaned as her sneakers skid out beneath her. Lucy reversed her chair, tightening the line and the rainbow pennant tickled the edge of the pool.

"One more good pull." Kaye grunted.

"Fall backwards, use all your weight on the next Day-o." Lucy released her brake and pushed her chair full throttle in reverse, everyone tightened their hold on the line and leaned back, dropping to the ground. The pennant crossed out of the pool and four green shirts fell forward into the muck. LaWandra Wilkens teetered on the edge of the pit and then fell, face first into the pudding.

Maura dropped the rope first and reached around Kaye for her girlfriend. "We did it, Jane!"

"Yes we did! You we're right, babe." She bent over for a gentle kiss, but Maura captured her tongue, sucking hard.

"The epinephrine released through this athletic endeavor has made me very libidinous. I think I understand now why athletes are constantly slapping one another's buttocks."

Millie-Joyce landed on the stage, unhooking her bungee belt. "Wow, that was dramatic. I hope we have eight more green shirts somewhere or else Team Green will have to change it's name." Six unhappy faces, covered in chocolate pudding stared back at her, the other two having remained behind in the pool where they were humping cheerfully in chocolate.

"Where's the scoreboard?" Millie-Joyce spun around with her hand out. "Hot booger fuck! I miss having you up here with me, Beata."

The diva wasn't listening; she was pressed up against the railing, making out with Coco. Maura wasn't the only competitor feeling libidinous.

A cruise staffer arrived carrying the scoreboard and Millie-Joyce swiped at the numbers with a flourish. "Jane's Blue Boobs sank all eight of their competitors; first place with three points. The Red Rib Bumpers shit-pitted two; second place and two points. The Yellow Ya-Yas get one point for losing less badly than the Green Gazongas. You have time to eat a hot dog or have a quickie back in your cabin. Lesbolympic Arm Wrestling starts in ten minutes in the Grand Buffet on deck 12."

* * *

><p>"Strategy meeting, Boobs." Carl rounded up the team, passing out hot dogs and bottles of water. "We could really win this."<p>

"That's right." Coco agreed, one hand on Beata's ass and the other wrapped around a foot-long frankfurter with extra mustard and relish.

"I don't think so. Beata is really our only sure win."

"So we pit Beata against their strongest and hope for the best with everyone else."

"No." Kaye paced in front of the cardboard pig cutout next to the empty rib station. "We match our two weakest with their strongest, a strategic sacrifice which will give Beata a better chance of winning her match against their number three and the rest of us a fighting chance."

"Bingo!" Jane agreed. "I see why they made you a captain, Kaye."

A young blonde with a crew-cut and bulging biceps dropped to the table. She cracked her knuckles and winked at Beata. Beata winked back and rolled Lucy's chair to face her. The woman blushed, turning as red as her T-shirt. "I thought I was wrestling you." She addressed the big diva.

"No, you're wrestling our secret weapon."

Lucy reached out her thin pale arm and clasped the body builder's large hand. "I'm ready. Be gentle with me, my bones break easily."

Millie-Joyce beat a gong with an enormous metallic dildo and the wrestling began. LaWandra Wilkens, still dripping chocolate from her hair, easily defeated her opponent, earning a check mark in the green column on the scoreboard. Lucy and her adversary sat unmoving across from one another, lightly holding hands. Finally the blonde sighed and rested her arm on the table palm up with Lucy's smaller hand on top; a check in the blue column.

"Do your bones really break easily?" Carl asked.

"Of course not. I was just fucking with her and it payed off." They bumped fists.

A burly Latina was up next and Kaye walked her wife to the table, pulling out her chair and seating her, guiding her hand into place. "Get 'em, tiger." She whispered, kissing the top of Faye's grey head.

"May I have a moment to acclimate myself?" The blind doctor asked.

"Yeah, sure."

Faye ran her hand down the other woman's strong forearm, feeling the corded muscles beneath the skin, lingering over the solid wrist and acquainting herself with the architecture of the calloused hand above it. She nodded. "I'm ready, dear."

"Um, I just wanna say sorry in advance, abuela."

"That's quite all right, dear." Faye nodded again.

Millie-Joyce vaulted on top of a nearby table, stroking the swollen clitoris on her unitard. "Ming-ming-ming-ming-ming." She screetched, her fingers moving faster, frenzied. She dropped to her knees, spent. Maura leaned against Jane, breathless from laughter.

Jane rolled her eyes. "I still think I'm funnier."

"You're not."

The tennis legend pulled a kazoo from her pocket and blew into it. "Begin!"

Faye's opponent hunkered down, preparing for an easy win. Faye fluttered her fingers against the other woman's hand, searching, and then pressed. The younger woman yelped, her arm frozen and cramped. Faye pinned the paralyzed arm to the table and with a butterfly touch released her opponent from her agony.

"Damn, abuelita, how did you do that?"

"A lifetime of studying anatomy."

"Go granny! Go granny! Go granny!" A thousand voices cheered. Kaye helped her wife to her feet and led her in a victory lap around the packed room where she cheerfully accepted praise and high-fives.

"I got it all on video, babe." Kaye whispered in her ear. "Annalise is gonna be so proud of her Nana."

Beata surprised no one when she crushed her opponent's hand to the table, winning her match in under two seconds. Carl and Coco both lost and sat pouting in front of the pizza station, sharing sorrowful looks and a bag of Doritos.

Kaye locked arms in an epic battle, the longest in the event. Her opponent was middle-aged and broad-shouldered with the lean muscles of a distance runner. Neither woman would give in and so they sat, arms trembling between them, losing and gaining the same millimeter again and again. It was stamina that finally won the contest, the younger woman having just a shade more than the police captain.

"I'm sorry I let the team down, Jane." Kaye shook her white head sadly.

"Bullshit, Kaye. You drew the toughest match of the day. You did good." Jane clapped her shoulder and Carl passed her an opened Heineken. "Hell of a match, captain. Hell of a match."

Jane shook hands with her opponent, a sturdy black woman with a close-cropped afro. "I'm Paige." She smiled.

"I'm Jane."

"I know."

Jane placed her left elbow on the table and Paige placed her right.

"Oops. Better call Millie-Joyce."

"Hey Ming, what do we do if we have opposite dominant arms?"

Millie-Joyce bounded over. "Let me consult the rule book." She pretended to page through a large tome. "Ah, here it is…stick your thumb in your snatch and your pinkie in your ass and then switch." She cackled and skipped away.

"Well that was useless." Paige shook her head. "I don't see the humor in that woman, but everyone else does. There must be something wrong with me."

"You and me both."

They flipped a coin and Jane called tails. "Heads."

Jane's weaker right arm trembled as it drew closer to the table top. She closed her eyes and the unbidden image of Maura, unable to move and cut by Hoyt's scalpel, came to mind. She could smell the ammonia scent of the prison infirmary and feel the trickle of blood running down her own neck. "No!" She screamed, her right arm rising strait up and over, pinning Paige to the table. Her eyes shot open. "Sorry. I don't know what…" She looked at the other woman with frightened eyes.

"That's okay, Jane. Whatever you just conjured worked. I'm a clinical psychologist in Boston. Paige Powers is my name; I'm in the book. You can call me if you ever need to talk about it."

"Okay."

Maura lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right, baby?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. My mind took me to a bad place, but I'm okay now."

Maura frowned.

"Really. Don't worry. You're up, babe, worry about your own match." She rested her forehead against Maura's soft breasts for half a moment, breathing in the spicy vanilla scent of her lover and then pulled back, smiling. "No pressure, Maur, but we really need this win." She glanced at the scoreboard. "If you pull this out, we'll come in second and the two points here guarantee we'll medal, even if we crap out in the final event."

"Thanks, Jane. I was calm until you told me that." She closed her eyes and lifted her leg in the vrksasana position. "I'm going to meditate."

Maura's opponent was tall and butch with tattooed half-sleeves and spiked dark hair.

"She looks like a tough one, Maura. Do you have a secret weapon you can pull out of your arsenal?"

The doctor smirked. "I do have a pair of assets that may do the trick. Carla, run to my room and get me my black push-up bra. Hurry. Beata, can you stall them."

"Sure. I'll belt out a little Gloria Gaynor. The lesbians love her; it's like catnip to them." The diva trilled a high D and held it. Conversations stopped and all eyes turned to the center of the buffet. Beata grabbed a hot dog and raised it to her lips like a microphone. She began to sing. "At first I was afraid I was petrified, kept thinking I could never live without you by my side…"

The audience clapped it's approval and sang along. Millie-Joyce grabbed a kitchen worker in a white apron and danced the bewildered man across the room, twirling and dipping him to his stunned delight. "You have no tits, but otherwise you're kind of cute." She told him

Carl returned, panting, with a black brassiere in her hand. "Here you go."

Maura appraised the dark undergarment. "This is Jane's bra."

"Shit." Carl stamped her foot. "That will never fit you. You'll be spilling out all over."

"Exactly." Maura beamed at her friend and impulsively kissed her cheek. "This may be an even better prop than the balconette. Jane, I need your help in the bathroom."

Maura smiled sweetly at her opponent and the woman grinned back. "Are you ready to hold my hand across the table?" She asked.

"Sure. I'll hold it under the table if you like." Her opponent was a flirt. _Perfect. _"Nice ink, by the way."

"Thank you." Maura glanced at her forearm and very consciously licked her lips. "I like a woman with a hard polymerized siloxanes phallus."

Her adversary looked confused, but her expression changed to lust when Millie-Joyce counted to three and Maura shrugged out of her blue T-shirt. Jane's bra fit poorly, barely covering the bottom half of the doctor's breasts. She had strategically arranged her bosom so pink areolae were visible above the black fabric and as a coup de grâce, had run an ice-cube across her nipples until they hardened to stiff peaks. She won her match in under fifteen seconds.

"Wow!" Millie-Joyce strode through the buffet, clutching her microphone. "The Lesbolympics are half over and the Blue Boobs are still in first place. I haven't been this surprised since I met the girl of my dreams at a Barbra Streisand concert and found out she had a dick." She mimicked groping a curvy woman and then grasping an enormous penis, a look of confounded bafflement on her face. Someone passed her a hot dog and she clenched it tightly in her fist, shrieking in horror before tossing it over her shoulder.

"Our next two events do not test your physical prowess and athleticism…"

"Oh no." Jane groaned. "We're going to be feeding each other oysters off our tits and shooting hard-boiled eggs out of our pussies, I just know it."

Maura's nostrils flared. "I hope not, Jane, at least the egg part. I wouldn't mind eating oysters off of any part of your body."

"…the second half of Lesbolympics is a battle of wits."

"Yes!" Maura did a happy little jig and reached for the blind doctor's hand. "Here's where we shine, Faye."

* * *

><p>The Starstruck Theater was filled to capacity; women sat on the floor in the aisles and leaned against the back wall. Cruise staffers circulated selling cracker jacks and pretzels, beer and soft drinks, from massive trays hung about their necks. Maura clutched tight to Jane's hand as they climbed over bodies on their way toward the stage. "I wonder if it will be some sort of trivia contest. I hope there's a buzzer to hit when you know the answer."<p>

"You might as well keep your finger on the buzzer the entire time because you know all the answers."

"Yes. I probably do."

"That's what I love most about you, babe; your modesty."

"Really? I though it was my breasts."

"They're second to your modesty."

"This is you being funny, right Jane?"

"Maybe."

The lights dimmed in the large theater and Vangelis's_ Chariots of Fire_ played through the speaker system. Millie-Joyce appeared on stage, jogging in slow motion. She made her way to the proscenium and the music stopped. "Who watches the Amazing Race?"

A thousand hands shot up. "I put together a pilot for a similar show a few years back and shopped it to all the major networks. It was called 'The Amazing Sit on My Face'. I traveled the world with only a strap-on and a toothbrush and tried to pick up a hot babe in every city. Can you believe no network was interested? Even the Women's Tennis Channel turned me down."

"I'll sit on your face, Millie-Joyce!" A woman yelled from the upper balconies.

"It's a date. I'm on deck ten, cabin number 234. Meet me after the Lesbolympics."

"I fucking love that show." Carl couldn't contain her enthusiasm. She bounced on the balls of her feet and swung her arms. "Do you think we'll have to travel to different countries?"

"We're on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, are you going to stick a firecracker up your ass and fly to Europe?" Jane deadpanned.

"I doubt they allow firecrackers onboard, Jane. They're dangerous even under the best of circumstances. They should never be used aboard a ship or inserted anywhere in the body." Maura advised.

"Do you care to share your thoughts with us, Maura?" Millie-Joyce was standing next to the lecturing doctor with her microphone held out.

"I was just telling my teammates that it would be perilous and foolhardy to insert explosive pyrotechnic devises into their anuses."

Millie-Joyce pulled her microphone back. "And there you have it, ladies, expert advice from a Harvard educated physician. 'Keep your cherry bombs out of your assholes.'"

The crowd whistled and stamped their feet; Maura was a popular figure on the ship, always good for a sound bite.

"Competitors, are you all ready for the third event?"

Everyone nodded and whooped.

"You're going on a scavenger hunt. Each team will be supplied with the same three clues which will point you to three specific destinations aboard the ship. Decode your clue, race to your destination and snap a photo for posterity. The entire team must stay together; no splitting up the clues or the group. Your photo must show all eight members just to keep you honest. You can solve them in any order you like and when you're finished, come back here."

"Ming, what are all these people going to do while we run around the ship?"

"Ah, we're all going to watch you, of course." The tennis legend raised her arm and a huge projection screen descended from the rafters behind her. "One member of each team will wear a camera helmet to record the action."

"Me! Oh, me! Please, Jane? Me." Carl jumped up and down waving her arms.

"If you wear the camera, all we'll get is pictures of my girlfriend's tits. I know you can't keep your eyes off of them."

"In that case, Carl is definitely wearing the camera." Millie-Joyce picked up a white helmet and tossed it to the small policewoman.

"Carl! Carl! Carl!" Half the audience chanted. The other half answered with, "Tits! Tits! Tits!"

"I've secreted your clue cards someplace on my body. Your first task is to strip search me; no need to be gentle."

LaWandra Wilkens stepped forward, towering nearly a foot over the tennis star. "I'm not putting my fingers in your pussy, no matter how much you beg, so just hand over the damn clues, Ming." The basketball player was clearly still smarting from her drubbing in the Jello pit. Jane wondered if Ming had violated her beneath the lime gelatin as well.

"Fine." She reached into her bra and extracted four pink index cards, passing one to each team. "Party pooper." She muttered. "Just test your cameras and begin."

Teams Red, Green and Yellow all projected images of grinning team members, arms around each other's shoulders, some flashing peace signs or blowing kisses. Carl captured Maura's glorious rack straining against the thin fabric of her blue T-shirt, nipples just visible under the "e" and "c" of Lesbolympics.

"Go Team Blue! Go Team Boobs!" The spectators screamed.

The competitors exited through the back of the stage and Jane passed the card to Maura for interpretation. "This is all you, babe, all you and Faye. Whatever you two say, we do."

Maura read the first clue aloud. "Where oh where is Rita Mae Brown?"

Faye raised her own lecture finger. "Rita Mae Brown is a famous lesbian author. She wrote Rubyfruit Jungle which I'm sure we've all read…"

Everyone nodded except for Jane. "You read that, Maur?"

"Yes, years ago; it's a classic of lesbian literature."

"Why we're you reading lesbian literature?" Jane husked in her ear.

Maura smiled mysteriously and Jane growled, remembering the three women her beloved had bedded before her.

"Rubyfruit Jungle…what does that mean?"

"I assume it's a reference to the vulva; like your O'Keeffe paintings, Jane."

"Ah, O'Keeffe…" Beata sighed. "One could almost masturbate to her flowers."

"What else did she write?"

"She's probably most well known for her cat mysteries. Kaye reads the to me. I would say that Rita Mae is nearly obsessed with cats these days."

"So…vulvas and cats."

"Or pussies and cats, Jane." Carl clarified. "Is there a cat on this ship?"

"There are over 2800 pussies on board." Beata guffawed. "We'll never finish if we have to check all of them."

"Rita Mae Brown anagrams to 'Brain Art, Meow!'" Faye added.

"Cats again!"

"Cat…cat…cat…Maura, read the clue again."

"Where oh where is Rita Mae Brown?"

"A cat on the ship…Sea cats!" Jane snapped her fingers. "Let's go."

Sea Kat brand lifeboats hung above the railings of the promenade deck, each white-hulled craft was large enough to hold 160 passengers and crew. Jane pointed to the red lettering stamped on each hull. "What do you think?"

"This must be it." Kaye agreed. "All the clues point here, even the anagram."

"I can see a writer hiding out in one of these to commune with her muse and maybe have a secret assignation with a charming gal she met on the dance floor."

Coco nodded. "That's right."

"Maura? Faye? Carl? Lucy? Do we all agree?"

Everyone agreed. They pressed in close to the boat and Jane snapped a selfie, making sure she got the words 'Sea Kat' in the photo.

Back in the Starstruck Theater, the audience roared with laughter.

"Next clue, Maura. I wonder if we're the first to figure that one out. I don't see any of our adversaries on this deck."

"Of course we're first." Lucy answered. "We have two geniuses on our team."

"Amy and Emily drank from this and they were 'Closer to Fine'."

"Amy Lowell and Emily Dickinson!" Faye exclaimed.

"It must be." Maura concurred. "They were both natives of Massachusetts and this ship sailed from Boston."

"I've heard of Dickinson." Carl scratched under her helmet. "But who's Amy Lowell?"

"A poet, she wrote a generation after Dickinson…and she was a lesbian." Faye answered. "Dickinson may also have been a lesbian, but that has never been proven to my satisfaction."

"Nor mine. Coco, Amy Lowell was an avid cigar smoker, just like you."

"Is that right?" The little woman bit on her cheroot.

"Where would two lesbian poets drink on a cruise ship?" Lucy asked.

"In the library and I'm pretty sure there's a water cooler or fountain in there."

They raced to the library and found LaWandra Wilkens and her Green Squad snapping a picture inside. "Damn, they're ahead of us."

"They may not have gotten the cat clue yet; Millie-Joyce said we don't have to solve them in order."

"Coco, Carl, hit the shelves, see if there's a poetry book by our ladies."

"Got it!" Carl yelled, waving the complete works of Emily Dickinson.

"And Lowell?"

Coco lifted a slimmer volume above her head.

"C'mon everyone, let's gather around the water cooler and take our proof picture. Make sure you get the books in the photo."

The audience watching on the giant screen howled. Millie-Joyce picked up her microphone and began singing a very off-key version of Indigo Girls 'Closer to Fine' and two thousand women sang along, each knowing all the words by heart. "I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains. I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain. There's more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line. The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine. "

"What's next?"

"What does Ellen drive?"

"That's it?" Beata asked. "It must be Ellen DeGeneres. Can we all agree on that?"

Everyone nodded.

"What does she drive?"

"A hard bargain." Lucy suggested.

"Drive could refer to golf." Jane mused. "Does Ellen golf? I mean, is she known as an avid golfer?"

"I think she is." Kaye squeezed her temples, trying to summon a memory. "I remember seeing some charity golf classic on ESPN and Ellen was definitely there."

"I think I saw that, too." Carl nodded. "Yeah, she's a golfer; a good one, I think.

"Is there a driving range on the ship?"

"There is. It's on deck 14."

The air had grown colder and everyone huddled together under the blowing green netting. The sea, which had been a deep cerulean just a few hours earlier was now dark grey and a wet wind blew off of the ocean coating everything with a salty brine. Maura pulled Jane tight against her and rubbed her hands up the detective's goosebumped arms. "It's beginning to feel like home."

"Nah, if we were home, we'd be in parkas and snow boots and I would be shoveling a path for Jo Friday to make her poopies. This isn't T-shirt weather, but it's not Boston." She took the doctor's hands in her own and kissed each soft knuckle. "Arm wrestling and pulling on ropes; another few days and your hands will be just as beat-up and calloused as mine." She reluctantly let go of Maura.

"Are we all here?" Faye and Kaye had accompanied Lucy on the elevator while everyone else had sprinted up the stairs.

Jane snapped a photo and returned her iphone to her pocket. "Let's go."

The Bad News Boobs returned to the theater to a standing ovation. Beata pirouetted down the center aisle, curtsying and blowing kisses to her fans. The other teams had not yet arrived. "Coco, it appears we've won once again."

"That's right." The smaller woman tucked her cigar into her back pocket and dipped her girlfriend, planting a lusty kiss on her full lips.

Millie-Joyce stood on stage with her hands on her hips. "Look what Rita Mae Brown's cat dragged in."

The audience roared.

"So we've won this event as well, it's practically a shut out. You might as well hand over the medal now, Millie-Joyce. Coco and I have some olympic sports we'd like to try in the privacy of our room."

"A little muff-diving and finger-curling, Beata?"

"Oh, that's just the beginning. Coco will ski a giant slalom around the snowy mounds of my breasts and ride me like a slick luge, hugging my curves until we both jump the track and collapse in a sweating mass at the finish line."

"That's right." Coco agreed.

"Yeee-hah!" The tennis legend squeezed her own breasts. "That's one olympic event I'd love to be part of…but your team is not getting the gold. In fact, I'm going to deduct 69 points from your score for making a mockery of lesbian culture, but then I'll add one for creativity and making us all laugh."

The rear doors to the theater flew open and a mass of women in green, yellow and red fought their way in, jostling one another to get down the aisle. LaWandra Wilkens picked up a small woman in a yellow shirt and dunked her like a basketball into a side row. Maura's arm wrestling opponent tripped the tall woman and ducked out of the way as she fell, only to be tackled by another giantess in green. The crowd was on it's feet, shouting for their favorites. Kaye narrated the events in a booming voice for her wife as they played out. Millie-Joyce called the winners as they reached the stage. "Yellow, by a busted titty, followed by red and green."

"Let's see your photos, lesbos." She swiped her finger across a tablet and an image rendered on the huge screen overhead: Millie-Joyce naked in a bathtub, her tongue lolling out of mouth, her glasses fogged up with steam and her hand between her legs. "Ooops, that's not supposed to be there." She giggled and swiped again.

The screen split into four squares. Three images of smiling competitors in the library and the fourth of The Bad News Boobs in front of a lifeboat. "You can find Rita Mae, or at least her novels, in the library."

"But her angiogram said 'meow'." Carl protested.

"You over thought that one, girls." Millie-Joyce swiped her finger again and an another nude photo, the tennis legend wearing nothing but knee socks and licking a lolly-pop, blazed on the screen. "Damn! How did that get in there?" She swiped again and three nearly identical images of the statue of Neptune above the fountain in the Grand Gallery appeared, only the color of the women's Lesbolympic T-shirts changed as they posed sitting in a line along the sea god's tail. "Emily and Amy are…" Millie-Joyce held out her microphone and the crowd screamed. "Indigo Girls".

"Not 19th century New England poets. Sorry, Maura."

With a final swipe of her finger, Millie-Joyce's nude form once again filled the screen, this time splayed across the hood of a black Porche Carrere in the Car Bar on deck 13. "Ellen drives Portia, her wife, not a damn golf ball."

* * *

><p>Maura laced her fingers through Jane's as they walked leisurely back to their stateroom. "What a strange day. Would you ever have guessed that my brawn would trump my brain?"<p>

"Never, Maur."

"Are you mad that we lost?"

"No. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the biggest winner on this ship."

"We both are. Do you want to try some lesbian olympic events in our cabin like Coco and Beata are doing right now?"

"Sure. I already rode you like a luge this morning, but I wouldn't mind doing the breaststroke followed by a little rhythmic dancing and synchronized coming."

Maura chuckled. "I think a marathon session is in order."

"Then a shower and the farewell midnight chocolate buffet."

"I wouldn't eat that chocolate, Jane. What do you think they did with the six thousand gallons of pudding from the shit pit?"

* * *

><p>AN: We're in the home stretch...I'm thinking one more massive chapter or two modest ones to see our gals back home. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

"Who programs a white party to run concurrently with a chocolate festival and a masquerade? It's bad scheduling." Maura pulled two hangers from the armoire and regarded each with a look of mild distaste. "The Chiara Boni is white, but it doesn't scream chocolate." She held up a snowy cocktail dress. "This one feels more like chocolate." She twirled a shirt dress on its hanger, patterned in deep earth tones.

"Who designed that one, babe, Willie Wonka?"

"No. It's Etro and it matches the eggplant ankle-wrap sandals I wanted to wear. Who's Willie Wonka? I've never heard of that designer."

"He's a fictional candy maker. We'll have to watch the movie when we get home. It was my all time favorite when I was a kid. Wear whatever you like, Maur, they're not going to kick you out either way." Jane pulled on white linen trousers and tucked her gauzy white button down into the waist.

Maura eyed her girlfriend appreciatively; the bleached garments contrasted with the warm bronze of Jane's tanned skin and wild black waves of her mane. Maura made a little mewling sound at the back of her throat and Jane's eyes snapped up. "You look like you want to devour me, Maura."

"I do. I know I just did, but we're still on vacation. Can't I go back for seconds?"

Jane grinned. "Thirds, if you like. Do you want to say 'fuck it' and have our own festival here in our cabin? The sheets are white, I have the milk chocolate Mickey Mouse I bought for TJ at Disney, and we could both wear our masks."

Maura stepped closer, a vision in her ivory lace panties and bra. "I'm very tempted, Jane, but it's the last night and I want to say good-bye to our friends. Keep TJ's mouse candy intact; I have a box of Godiva in my refrigerator…" Maura closed her eyes, picturing a milk chocolate truffle, nearly the same color as Jane's nipples. She licked her lips and sighed. It would take all her will to keep her hands and mouth off of girlfriend's body.

"Maura, baby, you'd better put on your dress in the next five seconds or else it's not going on at all."

The doctor took a deep breath and turned back to the armoire, pulling the Chiara Boni over her head and shimmying it down over her curves.

* * *

><p>Maura struggled to keep up with her girlfriend's long strides, tottering on her silver Louboutin platforms. Finally she gave up and enjoyed the view from behind. The loose-fitting linen hid the outline of Jane's firm ass, but nothing could disguise the detective's swagger; she rolled her hips like a stalking puma. Maura imagined the muscles rippling under the billowy white trousers and her lover's supple form, burnished by the tropical sun to dark caramel. She conjured the salty taste of Jane's skin as she kissed her way up hard calves, lingering at the soft flesh behind her knees and the velvety expanse of toned thigh where she sucked and teased, leaving purple-red tattoos before burying her face in the thick wet fur of Jane's dark sex.<p>

"Babe…" Maura's voice was a husky purr.

Jane turned, a sarcastic quip about the doctor's poor choice in footwear forming in her mind, but the look on Maura's face made her lose her train of thought.

"…can we take the elevator?"

"Sure." Jane waited for her girlfriend to catch up and took her hand. "Do you want me to carry you, princess? You're walking like one of those geishas with the bound feet."

"Geishas are Japanese entertainers. Foot binding was strictly a Chinese practice; it gained in popularity during the Song Dynasty among aristocratic women, but soon spread…"

Jane cut her off with a kiss and pressed the button for the elevator.

"If there's someone in the car, wait for the next." Maura ran a finger under the waist of her girlfriend's pants. Jane's skin was warm and silky.

"O..okay." Jane's eyes were locked to Maura's, she read desire and telegraphed it back.

The elevator was empty when they stepped in. "Make it jam, Jane." Jane hit the button for the top deck and then the emergency stop. The car shuddered and slowed, finally stopping between decks 12 and 13.

Maura pressed herself against Jane's lithe form, molding her breasts to Jane's sternum. They kissed, tongues sliding hotly together, stroking and circling. Jane grappled with the clinging fabric of the doctor's white cocktail dress, eager to push it up and aside. She growled in frustration as the smooth lycra eluded her trembling fingers. She roughly shoved a thigh between Maura's legs and her growl turned to a grunt of satisfaction at the feel of damp warmth seeping through the thin material. Maura ground against the hard thigh and then slid down the length of Jane's body, taking the white linen trousers and white boy-shorts with her. Jane leaned back against the elevator wall, resting her burning cheek against a cool wood panel, her hands wrapped tight in Maura's silky tresses as she watched their images reflected in the mirrored elevator door; the golden head moving between her tanned thighs as she stroked herself through her own ivory lace panties.

Maura stood, straightening her dress, as the elevator began to move again. The bell dinged and a pleasant British-accented voice announced, "Deck Thirteen." Jane caught the gaze of amused hazel eyes in the mirrored door just as it slid open. Maura wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and primly exited the elevator.

* * *

><p>The Grand Buffet was transformed; gone were the cafeteria tables and plastic chairs, the fluorescent lighting and stainless-steel salad bar. The cavernous room had metamorphosed into a stylish disco. Thousands of bodies bobbed and shimmied, hustled and jived on the dance floor, their white clothes blazing like blue ice under pulsing ultraviolet strobe lights. Running along the room's perimeter were massive sculptures wrought in chocolate: the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty, a life-sized Venus standing naked on her clam shell and Michelangelo's David, sculpted from white chocolate instead of white Carrara marble. Someone had covered his famous phallus with a harness made of twizzlers and a chocolate dipped banana stood erect between his thighs. A white blur hurtled past, stopping long enough to nip the end off of the banana, before disappearing with a cackle. Ming.<p>

A moment later she was back, nibbling on a skewer of dipped strawberries. "Where are your masks, ladies? Did you ruin them playing Lone Ranger and Tonto all afternoon, sitting on each other's faces?"

Maura chuckled and Jane rolled her eyes. "We forgot them in the room."

"Here, take mine." Millie-Joyce pulled off a white eye mask, embellished with white plastic feathers and rhinestones, handing it to Maura with a flourish.

"Thank you." Maura slipped the mask over her head. "These chocolate sculptures are astonishing. I can't imagine the time and talent it took to make just one, and there must be twenty or more here."

"Have you seen the chocolate Ming?" Millie-Joyce asked, strawberry juice and chocolate running down her chin.

"No. Not yet."

"I'm next to the milk chocolate Sappho instructing her pupils. When you see me, look up my tennis skirt."

"You wish." Jane grunted.

"You'll be impressed, I promise. I designed it myself."

"I'd like to see it." Maura linked her arm through Millie-Joyce's elbow and Jane had no choice but to follow, weaving her way through a sea of white-pulsing, strobe-lit bodies cavorting to the sound of Beata Frankenmeier singing The Pointer Sisters.

"Did you know…" Maura was standing between a 3/4 replica of the tennis star and Millie-Joyce herself. "…chocolate has an interesting etymology. The first half of the word _choco_ comes from the Maya word _xoco_ which means hot. The second half from the Nahuatl word _atl_ which means water. So chocolate is literally hot water, which makes perfect sense if you drink it warm like the Mayans did. The Aztecs, however, preferred their chocolate…"

Jane reached between the pair and flipped up the white cotton tennis skirt, draped around the chocolate Ming effigy. "Holy shit."

Candy Ming's crotch was impregnated with hundreds of black licorice laces, cut into neat inch long sections and painstakingly attached in rows. The effect was a realistic pubic thatch.

Millie-Joyce smiled proudly, patting her cocoa doppelgänger. "Of course my snatch today is more grey than black, but they don't make vanilla licorice whips and this statue was modeled on my first US Open Championship photo in 1967. What a year; Johnson was in the White House, Janis Joplin was on the radio, and my bush was black and bountiful. Women lined the streets of Forest Hills just to get a lick. Yes, my friends, love-love was the score."

"TMI, Ming." Jane dropped the skirt.

"Trimethylindium?" Maura asked, confused. "That's a highly unstable thermal compound used in semiconductors."

"Well, Ming is highly unstable, but TMI means…."

"Too much information." Carl popped up at Jane's side, in baggy white cargo shorts and a white Chilmark PD T-shirt. "Can I see that again?"

Jane rolled her eyes and lifted the tennis skirt a second time.

"That's so cool." Carl poked the licorice pubis.

Millie-Joyce giggled, bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation, a move engraved in her muscle memory from years of prowling the baseline waiting for an opponent's serve. "Look under the hairs, Jane. This is the best part."

Jane's sigh was a vocal eye-roll, but she squatted in front of the sculpture and parted the lank licorice pubes. The realistic labia was fashioned entirely of swedish fish with a huge red gobstopper clitoris peeking out at the front.

"There's a metaphor here." Jane smirked and dropped the curtain of pubes.

"I love a metaphor, Jane, what is it?" Maura's eyes sparkled with merriment behind her white feathery mask.

"Her vagina…is made of…fish." Jane explained slowly.

"So?"

Ming was off on one of her patented rants. "My tuna taco, my red snapper, my carp carnival, shrimp bed, furry flounder, halibut hut…"

Maura waved dismissively at the statue's crotch. "I've never tasted fish on a woman. It's an insulting and indubitably false stereotype."

Jane was glad of the dim lighting at the edge of the disco, she felt the blood rush to her face as she remembered Maura's expert mouth against her own sex in the elevator. Despite just having had an orgasm that made her thighs ache and her abs burn, she felt a subtle throbbing begin again between her legs. Maura took her hand and squeezed. _She knew._

Ming blathered on. "Very true, Maura, though I did once date a woman who tasted just like fried chicken; I used to call her the Colonel and she had no idea why. She thought we were role playing and started calling me Radar."

The doctor tilted her head, not understanding.

"It's from M*A*S*H, Maur, didn't you watch television when you were a kid?"

"No, not really."

Faye and Kaye rounded the corner in matching white nehru collared blouses, wheat jeans and Birkenstocks. Faye held loosely onto her wife's arm and balanced a martini glass the size of a Starbucks Grande in her free hand.

"Here are our friends, love. Jane and Maura, Carla and Ming the Magnificent."

"Who wants a chocolate martini? They are delicious; too delicious in fact. I've had three and if I didn't know it was physically impossible, I'd swear I can see again. Jane, are you very short and chubby?"

"Yes." Jane chuckled. "And Maura is butch as hell and flat-chested."

"I'll try one."

Faye held out her glass in the direction of Maura's voice, but was way off. Maura stepped around her and took a sip. "Delicious."

"I'll be right back. Watch my woman, Jane. Don't let her run off with any sailors." Kaye passed her wife's hand over and disappeared in the direction of the bar.

"Last night, Faye. Maur and I are going to miss you two."

"We're less than three hours by car from Boston. You and Maura must come up when you can get away. I'm not just saying that, Jane; I don't say things that I don't mean. Kaye and I both feel a deep connection, and poor Kaye has no one to talk to about the things that interest her; her sports teams and police matters. Our son is very much like me, an egghead."

"You're not an egghead, Faye. You're like my Maura…wonderful."

"And an egghead."

"Well, maybe a little. What's your son's name?"

"Tom, after Tom Seaver, the Mets pitcher."

"Right. I forgot you're both native New Yorkers. I'm glad Kaye isn't a Yankee fan. If she was, I might have to rethink our friendship."

Faye laughed, a goofy chortling snort, much like Maura's. "The Yankees are anathema in our home."

"Good! You and Kaye have to stay with us in Boston this summer and we'll all go to Fenway and boo the Yankees."

"It's a deal." Kaye arrived, her hands laden with drinks; a chocolate martini for Maura, a beer for Carl, Jane and herself and a soft drink for her wife. "I got you a Fresca, babe. I think you need a break from the vodka. Where's Millie-Joyce? I got her a Jello shot."

"I'm here." The tennis legend was on her knees in front of chocolate Sappho. Jane noticed that the lesbian poetess had one finger raised as she lectured her adoring pupils, just like Maura.

"What are you doing, Ming?"

"I'm going down on the mother of all lesbians, but I have an ulterior motive. Just give me a minute; she's close." Ming stuck out her tongue and continued licking the statue's crotch. The five women watched her in equal parts interest and bewilderment.

"Okay. Done." Millie-Joyce removed her glasses and swiped at her sweating brow. "Have a look."

Maura peered into the hollow between Sappho's thighs then poked her finger into the gap. "Fascinating and brilliant."

"Isn't it?" Ming asked.

"What?"

"It appears that the statuary is not actually sculpted of chocolate. These are styrofoam molds with a thin layer of chocolate sprayed over them."

"After the party, the staff will hose them off and put them in storage for the next cruise."

"I for one am greatly relieved. I had been calculating the amount of chocolate it would take to produce solid statuary and it's a staggering amount both in poundage and price." Maura began to raise, then sheepishly lowered, her lecture finger.

"I'm disappointed." Carl admitted. "I was hoping they'd break everything up at the end of the night and I'd get to take the armless lady's titties back to my room." She gestured to the Venus de Milo.

"Why don't you try for some real titties, Prince Charming. There's a bunch of wallflowers hanging around the crepe station." Jane poked her with her empty beer bottle.

"Nah. I don't want to fall in love the last night of the cruise and have to go home alone to the Vineyard. But if you don't mind, I'd love to dance with your girl."

"I don't mind, just keep your hands where I can see 'em. I'm going on a beer run. Who needs?"

The band was playing The Village People. Beata shimmied across the stage in her white beaded gown and a construction helmet while Coco danced beside her in a police hat, miming the letters Y-M-C-A over her head. Jane began to dance, despite herself. Angela had this album and she remembered her mother's smiling face as the two of them boogied to this song in their small North End living room before Tommy was born. Frankie was a pudgy toddler watching them from the couch and Frank Sr. had grumbled about there being no plumber in the group.

Jane choked on a mouthful of beer as a warm body pressed up against her back, grinding into the curve of her ass. "Whoa, babe." The grinding grew more intense. "You're insatiable, Maura, and I love it." She tried to turn around, but her arms we're pinned at her sides. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

"Warm breath tickled her ear and a voice said. "Jane, let's engage in anthropologicagorical photosynthesisical intercourse." A tongue flickered across her neck.

She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of Maura dancing goofily with Big Carl Timmons fifteen feet away.

"Ming! What the fuck."

Maniacal laughter was the only response as Millie-Joyce unpinned her arms and skipped around to face her. "I almost had you fooled."

"No you didn't."

"I thought if I whispered something nerdy in your ear, you'd definitely think it was Maura. Did I make you wet, Jane?"

"You made my mouth wet as it filled with vomit."

"Live a little, Rizzoli. If this was the '70's we'd all be naked in a pig pile, snorting cocaine off each other's tits."

"If this was the '70's, the only tit I'd see was my mother's as she nursed me…and I'm a police officer, don't talk to me about cocaine. That shit don't play with me."

Millie-Joyce shrugged, unperturbed. "Picture it, Jane, Studio 54 in New York City. I just won the US Open for the third time. I glided into the disco and within five minutes I had my left hand up the dress of a supermodel and my right under the skirt of a certain actress with the third most popular show on television. Both of them 'straight' and married." She made air quotes around the word _straight_.

Jane was curious, despite herself. "Who?"

Ming whispered the name in her ear.

"Really? I had her barbie doll…er, action figure."

"I had the real thing. She was delicious." Ming licked her lips lasciviously and pranced away.

Maura returned, flushed and sweaty from her dance. She wrapped her arms around Jane's narrow waist and rested her head against her shoulder, her nose was tickled by soft raven tresses. "I've danced with everyone but you tonight. How about it, detective?"

"I'm not much of a dancer." Jane finished her beer and placed the empty on a table, already overloaded with glasses and chocolate-smeared plates.

"Sure you are." Maura raised an eyebrow. "You have excellent rhythm and timing. I should know…"

"That's not the same thing."

"Yes it is. If you can fuck, you can dance."

"Maura!" It still shocked her to hear her elegant girlfriend swear, but from Maura's mouth the word was erotic and sensual, not dirty. It conjured up the image of trembling limbs and sweat-dampened bodies moving together, very different from the way Jane used the word as a catch-all intensifier; "Fuckin' Yankees","Fuck this fuckin' paperwork" ,"Damn, Frost, we're fucked."

Maura pressed in closer, her breasts heavy against Jane's chest. "Dance with me, Jane."

"All right."

Maura took her girlfriend's hand and led her to an empty patch of dance floor near the starboard windows. Beata was just finishing a fast tempo number with comically dirty lyrics about a woman with an enormous derriere. Hoping for a slow number, she wrapped her arms around Jane's neck and looked into dark eyes. Jane's hands found her hips and rested there.

"Last dance, last chance for love…" The song started out slow and the pair swayed gently together, feeling like the only couple in the room. Maura slipped off her shoes and rested her head in the hollow of Jane's neck. She liked being smaller, feeling herself surrounded by Jane, tucked up against her, warm and protected. When the tempo picked up, they remained pressed together, holding each other while the rest of the room waved their hands in the air and bounced in time to the music.

"See, Jane, you can dance and it isn't so bad, is it?"

"No, it's good. Perfect."

The Donna Summer song ended and Beata curtsied deeply. "Yes, that was our last dance, ladies. My partner Coco and I would like to wish everyone a safe journey home tomorrow. We hope that the memories you've made on this trip will keep you warm and smiling for the rest of this cold, miserable winter."

"Boo! Winter can lick my asshole!" Someone shouted.

"It's still early. More dancing!" Came a loud voice from behind the stage.

The fluorescent lighting hummed as it switched on and the chic nightclub was once again only a cafeteria. Maura looked around at the white-clad revelers, confirming her initial assessment that a chocolate festival and a white party were not a good mix. Crisp white shirts were splattered with cocoa drops, snowy pants smeared and smudged with brown where sticky hands rubbed themselves clean. What the darkened disco had hid was revealed in the bright light of the buffet. The crowd looked like the aftermath of a toga party in a mud storm.

Millie-Joyce moonwalked across the stage in her tennis whites. She turned to the crowd and asked. "Who wants to see my Wimble-dong?"

Whistles and hoots greeted her; with Ming up there, the party was bound to continue. She rolled her hips and pulled up her skirt revealing a huge brown dildo in a harness, a pair of white tennis balls hung from below the phallus. She toggled a switch on her thigh and a stream of white mini marshmallows erupted from the tip. Women pushed each other aside to catch a sweet fluffy morsel on their tongues.

Maura guffawed, leaning heavily against Jane. "She's endlessly entertaining."

"And endlessly revolting." Jane grumbled.

When her member was empty, Millie-Joyce reached for Beata, hugging her long and hard. "It's been an amazing seven days. I'll miss you, my dear friend." She turned to the crowd, wiping a tear from under her glasses. "See, I have a heart. I'm not all butt plugs and whoopie cushions."

"Yes you are." Beata teased.

"Well, mostly, but I do have a soft spot when it comes to love. The gyrating and humping on the dance floor may be over, but here we all are dressed in white so…. Let's have a wedding!"

The band launched into an uptempo version of Mendelssohn's Wedding March. Beata took Millie-Joyce's arm and the pair glided solemnly across the stage to where Coco waited. The tennis star kissed the diva's cheek and handed her off to her girlfriend. The music changed and Beata, still holding Coco's hand, belted out the Dixie Cups' _Going to the Chapel_.

When the song ended, Millie-Joyce once again took the stage, a gauzy white veil over her face. "We are still in international waters and our Captain has graciously agreed to perform as many ceremonies as it takes to bind you all in wedded misery. Ladies, please welcome our Captain, Tors Hebsgaard."

A huge man with a neat red beard took the stage. He blushed and waved shyly, stooping his shoulders, trying to make himself small enough to disappear behind Millie-Joyce and Beata. "Captain Hebsgaard, tonight you are an honorary lesbian." The two women leaned in and kissed him on his flushed cheeks.

"I am very pleased to accept this honor." He smiled and nodded, his gentle manner and lilting sing-song English making him instantly popular with the crowd. "I am hoping that there will be maybe one happy couple that wishes a wedding." He scanned the crowd with expectant blue eyes.

"Who's steering the ship?" Jane asked out of the side of her mouth.

Maura downed the last of her chocolate martini. "The captain of a cruise ship is the head of all personnel and answers to the company, but is not the person at the helm. The staff captain actually navigates and steers the ship. Our staff captain is a woman; her photo is in the hallway outside of the bridge."

"Interesting."

"Yes. Did you know…" Maura raised her lecture finger. "…that the captain of a ship is always called 'sir,' even if she is a female?"

"I didn't."

"And the position of staff captain is…"

Millie-Joyce's voice over the microphone interrupted Maura's discourse on maritime hierarchy. "Jane, why don't you make an honest woman out of Maura?"

Maura drew her brows together, frowning. "I am unequivocally honest. I find it nearly impossible to lie."

"Maura." Jane growled. "It's a saying; it means I should marry you."

"Oh." The doctor flushed nearly as brightly as her fading sunburn at its apex. She lifted her empty martini glass to her mouth and poked her tongue into it's depths, eager for the last few drops of double chocolate truffle vodka.

All eyes were on them and the room had gone silent. Jane looked to Maura, but the doctor was staring into her empty glass which she clutched tightly in both hands. _Marriage? After only four days of being a couple. _Jane ran a nervous hand through her messy curls. She was sweating along her hairline despite the cool breeze blowing in from the open doors at the back of the ship. "Maur?" She croaked.

Maura looked up, meeting Jane's anxious gaze. "Jane, I love you, but I think we should wait."

The detective let out a long breath, her tight muscles relaxing. She pulled her girlfriend close and murmured into her soft hair. "Someday, babe."

"Yes." Maura answered, her lips at Jane's clavicle. "If you're asking, my answer is yes, but let's wait until we've been dating at least a week."

Jane laughed and pulled her tighter. The crowd grew noisy; women speculating with their friends about the whispered conversation between their favorite couple. "Did Jane ask?" "What did Maura say?" "Will there be a wedding?"

Millie-Joyce lifted the microphone to her mouth. "Hey vagitarians, who remembers this?" She cleared her throat and began to whine in a childish voice. "Jane and Maura sitting in a tree F-U-C-K-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage…" Twenty-eight hundred voices joined in, everyone remembering the ditty from her own childhood. "…then comes baby in a baby carriage, sucking her thumb, pooping in her pants, doing the hula-hula dance."

Everyone clapped and congratulated each other on remembering the playground rhyme after so many years, like a group of lapsed Catholics called on to recite the Apostles' Creed who are stunned that the words trip easily off their tongues decades later.

"Detective Rizzoli?" Millie-Joyce called. "What did she say?"

Jane rested her cheek against Maura's head. "She said yes, but…"

Cheers resounded through the room, drowning out the steady thrum of the massive diesel engines. "The queen is getting married! A royal wedding!" Jane was lifted off of her feet and carried toward the stage on the strong shoulders of LaWandra Wilkens. "Here's the groom, yo!" She deposited Jane in front of Captain Hebsgaard.

"Now LaWandra, you know that's not politically correct; there is no groom here. Jane and Maura are equals and both will be brides." Beata chided half-heartedly.

The basketball star sucked her teeth. "Jane wears the dick. She's the stud, the butch…the groom, but whatever." She snapped her fingers and leaped from the stage into the waiting arms of her very feminine, very curvy girlfriend.

"Jane." Beata coaxed. "Get on your knees and ask nicely so we can all hear." A large hand rested on her shoulder and pushed her inexorably toward the ground. Millie-Joyce shoved a microphone into her hand. She frowned and looked into the crowd, searching for her girlfriend, but someone had herded Maura to the front of the stage where she stood with panicked eyes, chewing her lip.

"Maura…" Jane squeaked. Maura took off her mask and met Jane's espresso eyes. "Maur, I love you. You're my best friend, my…my everything. I'm so proud to be loved by you. You make me laugh, you make me think, you've opened up my world and my mind. You're the kindest, funniest, goofiest, sexiest woman I've ever met." Maura was blushing, but happy. Her smile reached her eyes and they glittered: green and gold and dark silver. "You made a home for my mother…for all of my family. You never…" Jane started to tear up. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "…you never left my side when I was…wounded. You healed me and you waited for me until I was ready. Will you marry me…when you're ready?"

"I will." Maura nodded.

Everyone clapped. A collective "awww" resounded through the room.

"That was very lovely." Captain Hebsgaard pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his watering eyes. "It reminds me of my own proposal to my dear Dagmar. Ladies, I am at your service."

"We're not going to get married tonight, Captain."

Words of disappointment and anger filled the large room. "We want a wedding!" Someone shouted from behind the chocolate fountain. "Marry her, Jane, before she changes her mind." Another woman added from behind the stage.

LaWandra Wilkens stepped forward and rested her hands on Maura's hips. She lifted the petite woman easily onto the stage and pushed her gently toward Jane.

"A marriage is not something that either of us take lightly and it's not something we feel comfortable doing on the sperm of the rodent."

Laughter bubbled from all around them. "Ain't no sperm in here." A voice called from their left.

Jane snorted. "Spur of the moment, Maur."

"That makes no sense."

"Right, not like 'sperm of the rodent,' which makes perfect sense."

"Idiomatic speech is not my forte."

"Ya think?"

Jane put an arm around her shoulders and took the microphone. "When we get married, it's going to be overly orchestrated, planned, and argued about for months. Maura will want to fly in a pastry chef from Sarafina's in St. Martin to make the cake. Her mother will kidnap Stella McCartney and Vera Wang, chain them in the basement and whip them until they produce the perfect gown. Yo-Yo Ma will have to be dragged to Boston with his Stradavaginus to play during the cocktail hour…"

Maura snatched the microphone back. "Actually, we could never marry without Jane's mother here. She was the one who realized we were in love and pushed us towards each other."

"She's very pushy." Jane agreed. "If we got married without her, she'd kill us both and then herself so she could continue to torture us in the afterlife."

"Your mother would be the final vote on anything wedding related. She'd make the cake herself, arrange the flowers, and plan the honeymoon."

"You're right, babe. She'd probably come along on the honeymoon just to make sure we were doing it right."

Millie-Joyce joined them, putting on the voice of an old woman with a heavy Boston accent. "Jane, yuh nought doin' it right. Yah gotta lick it hah-duh." It sounded nothing like Angela, but the crowd didn't know that and they guffawed and chortled.

"So no wedding?" Beata looked disappointed. "My Ave Maria is legendary. The Grimaldis keep me on retainer to sing at all of their weddings, though the cute princess seems to have given up on marriage and just takes lovers now. No matter, they pay me either way."

"There must be someone who wants to get married." Captain Hebsgaard looked crestfallen as he searched the room, but no one stepped forward.

"What about you, LaWandra?" Jane called out the towering center who was draped over her girlfriend with a Coors Light in her hand.

"Not gonna happen." The girlfriend shook her head. "They don't call her 'Wandering LaWandra' for nothing. We hooked up three months ago, but I know come summer time, she be ditching my ass for another thick honey."

"Nah, baby. We good. I ain't going nowhere."

"Mmm-hmm. You gonna marry me then?"

"Nah, marriage…that's not my way."

"See. Look in your lesbo magazine come July and LaWandra gonna be professin' her love for some woman, but it ain't gonna be Chantel." She gestured to herself and shook her head again.

Jane turned to Beata. "What about you and Coco? You've been together forever."

"Marriage is not for us." The diva held up a ringless hand. "Coco says…"

Coco stepped forward in her jaunty white tux and tails. "Marriage is a patriarchal institution that enforces the hegemony of heteronormative values." She bit hard on her cigar and sat back down.

"That's right." Beata agreed.

"Anyone?" The Captain asked.

Kaye approached the stage, holding her wife's hand. "My gal and I already tied the knot back in 2004. We were one of the first couples to marry in Massachusetts, even though it wasn't recognized right away in Vermont. But this cruise is a celebration of our 40 years together. If it's all right with you, we'd like to renew our vows."

"Yee-ha!" Millie-Joyce tossed her dildo in the air. "We're having a wedding!"

Captain Hebsgaard smiled, putting down his half eaten chocolate chip cookie. "This is wonderful. I am humbled in the face of such love. I can do a Lutheran service or nondenominational or even Buddhist. I hiked through Nepal when I was a younger man."

"I can sing the_ sheva barachot_, the seven blessings." Beata added. "I considered being a cantor before the opera stage beckoned.

Faye tilted her head in that way that reminded Jane so much of Maura. "We're not Jewish or Buddhist or Lutheran, but why not? Let's do it all. What do you say, lover?"

"Bring it on, babe." Kaye grinned. "Jane, will you stand up with me as my best… woman?"

"Absolutely."

"Maura, would you be my maid of honor?"

"I would be delighted."

"I want to be something, too!" Carl pushed her way toward the stage.

"You can be the flower girl, brat." Jane stuck her tongue out.

"Fine."

"Where's Lucy?" Faye looked around with sightless eyes, a habit that she would never break. "She should be part of this."

A loud honk, like a dying foghorn, sounded from the far side of the room and Lucy wheeled to the stage in her chair, which was festooned with white feathers and balloons.

"Lucy, would you be our ring bearer?"

"My pleasure."

Faye slipped off her wedding ring and handed it to her wife who had a bit of trouble removing her own. "I think I gained a few pounds this week." Eventually it came off and she passed both to Lucy.

Millie-Joyce led the crowd in a chant of, "Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue." The requisite good luck items to ensure a happy marriage.

"We're old." Kaye laughed. "So we got that covered."

"And we're sharing our day with new friends."

"You want to borrow my dildo?" Ming asked.

"I think we'll pass on that." Kaye frowned.

"We have our own downstairs." Faye added to the delight of everyone.

"Kaye!" The old police captain flushed and sputtered. "My wife has a tendency to over share."

"Another characteristic she shares with Maura." Jane winked.

"How about my veil?" Millie-Joyce dangled the prop she had worn earlier.

"Yes. Perfect."

LaWandra Wilkens reached behind her neck and unclasped a thick gold chain with a glimmering sapphire pendant. She bent nearly double as she fastened it around Faye's neck. "I bought this in Sint Maarten. They got some fine jewelry stores there, yo. Keep it, granny. It suits you. Much happiness." She kissed the old doctor's cheek and stepped back to her girlfriend.

"Why you don't give me no sapphire necklaces, LaWandra?" The chubby woman pouted.

"See, Chantel. This is why I ain't gonna marry you."

Beata put on her most angelic expression, clasped her hands in front of her and sang. The poignant notes of Schubert's Ave Maria filled the colossal space. Carl processed toward the stage, strewing not flowers, but plastic feathers. Every guest had doffed her mask, filling a paper sack with the white plumes and now they fell like snow onto the path that the bride would walk.

Lucy followed in her chair, holding the two rings on a white buffet plate atop a solid block of dark chocolate.

Jane and Kaye stood on the stage, to the Captain's left. Coco had removed a white lily boutineer from the lapel of her tux and pinned it to Kaye's nehru shirt.

"Are you nervous?" Jane asked.

"Nah. I'm happy. I'm the luckiest dog in the pound."

Ave Maria ended and Beata sat next to her partner, taking her hand. Coco reached into her jacket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief and passed it to the diva, who blew her nose loudly and dabbed at her eyes.

The band played Pachebel's Canon in D and the bride walked down the feathery path, holding tight to her maid of honor. The two women could have been mother and daughter, so alike were they in stature and bearing.

"It's not too late, Maura. We could have a double wedding." Faye whispered.

"No, this is your day, Faye. Someday Jane and I will do this and you will be there for me."

"Yes. I will. We both will."

Maura counted out the steps up to the stage and held fast to Faye as the older doctor ascended.

Kaye took her wife's hand and they faced the Captain. "What are your names, ladies?"

"Katherine and Francine Capasso. Well, since we're getting married again, she can take her maiden name for a few minutes. Katherine Capasso and Francine Beekman."

"Are you going to be a Rizzoli when we get married?" Jane whispered.

"Maybe, it depends; if we decide to have a family, I would want the same name as our children."

Jane grinned. She was certain she looked like a complete idiot, but she didn't care. _Maura Rizzoli and__…__children. _She really should kiss Angela's feet when they got home.

Maura, too, was lost in her own thoughts. Jane looked stunning in her white linen trousers and blouse. She imagined her tall detective striding toward her in that very outfit, barefoot, with her pants legs rolled up to reveal muscular tan calves. She'd wear a simple dress and go barefoot as well…on the beach in Martha's Vineyard with a small gathering of friends; Faye and Kaye, Beata and Coco, Carl, Lucy, Millie-Joyce, Susie Chang, Barry and Vincent, her mother and Jane's family. After the ceremony they would boil lobsters in a big pot in the yard of her summer cottage, eat together at long picnic tables, laugh and dance. Beata would sing…

Beata was singing, her clarion soprano ringing a capella through the cavernous space as she pronounced the seven blessings in Hebrew, "Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, bo'rei p'ri hagafen." In her daydreaming, Maura had missed the vows and the exchange of rings.

The diva finished and returned to her seat and Captain Hebsgaard spread his hands. "You are married, ladies. Please kiss your wife."

Faye reached up a gentle hand, feeling for her wife's face. She touched cheek and then lips. Kaye kissed her fingertips and then leaned in and captured her lips with her own.

Twenty-eight hundred women shouted and cheered as the brides descended the four steps from the stage, holding hands.

They fed each other a forkful of chocolate cake, Maura guiding Faye's hand to her wife's waiting mouth.

"What shall your wedding song be?" Beata was once again fronting the band which had switched repertory from classic disco to old standards; Frank Sinatra and Rosemary Clooney, Nat King Cole and Connie Francis.

"For our first wedding it was _Unchained Melody_. Shall we stick with that, Mrs. Capasso?"

"Yes, I think we should, Mrs. Capasso."

"Good choice." Beata lifted the microphone to her mouth and closed her eyes dreamily. "Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…"

The brides swayed together, sharing soft kisses. At the second verse everyone was invited to join them on the dance floor. Jane reached out her hand and pulled Maura close. "This is beautiful. You're beautiful. I wish…"

"What do you wish, Jane?"

"I wish we'd get lost in some time warp like in a science fiction movie and we could stay here forever."

"Part of me wishes that, too, but I want to go home and start our life together. It's going to be wonderful, Jane. I promise."

"I know, babe."

The song ended and Millie-Joyce wended through the crowded dance floor with her microphone. "Ladies, what do you want to do next? Shall we throw the garter?"

"I'm not wearing a garter." Faye admitted.

"I think it's time we went back to our cabin." Kaye winked at the crowd. "We're docking in a few hours and I want to make love to my bride before we go to sleep."

* * *

><p>Jane unlocked the door to the stateroom as Maura sniffled behind her. "Don't cry, babe. We'll see everyone again soon." Their friends had all promised to come to Boston for Beata's big spring concert at Symphony Hall. Beata and Coco had already booked a suite at the Mandarin Oriental and Millie-Joyce would be staying there as well, but everyone else would be bunking in Maura's townhouse for the weekend.<p>

"We have so much to do, Jane." The doctor blotted her running nose with a tissue from the bathroom, emerging without her dress but wearing her heavy framed glasses. "We need to make our home handicap accessible for Lucy and buy a sleeper sofa for my office on top of moving you in and making room for your things.."

"It's exciting, isn't it?"

"Yes, but daunting. What's that box on the bed?"

"I'm afraid to look, Maur. Ming said she left a parting gift for us in our cabin. This must be it, but I'm afraid to open it. Best guess, babe, what do you think it is?"

Maura pooched air through her lips and shook her head. "I have no idea. It could be anything from fuzzy nipple clamps to a double ended silicone phallus."

"Ouch and double ouch."

"Open it."

Jane tore the paper from the box and with a deep breath removed the lid. "Oh…"

"What is it?"

"Not what either of us expected." She lifted out a heavy silver frame and gazed at the picture within, shook her head, smiling, then passed it to Maura.

The photo had been taken on stage that afternoon during the Lesbolympics. The entire Blue Boob Team, grinning in their pudding stained T-shirts, gathered around Millie-Joyce in her labia unitard. There was a note card in the box as well. "Jane and Maura, It has been a distinct joy getting to know you both. Don't forget me. Love, MJM."

"That will never happen. The women is quite simply unforgettable."

"Jane?"

"Mmm?"

"We have the first thing that is 'ours' to put in our home."

"Yes, we do." _Our home._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One more to go. Thanks for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

Jane leaned on the wood-topped balcony railing watching the lights of Boston come into focus. The sleeping city resembled a star-filled sky fallen to earth against the black horizon and inky expanse of water. To quiet her anxious thoughts she traced imaginary constellations in the flickering lights; the curve of a woman's hip _Maura_, the arch of a graceful neck _Maura_, the dip and rise of a slender waist _Maura_. The woman herself lay curled and sleeping in their bed, her cheek resting on Jane's pillow. Jane allowed herself a quick peek through the glass door and turned back to the dark vista.

It was cold; "cold as a witch's tit," Frank Sr. would say, earning him a sour look from Angela. Frozen puffs of spray blew from the ship's wake and sailed through the dark air like loose-packed snowballs. Jane's hands ached, the familiar throb that said winter and Boston and home. She smiled. Her body was tuned to her native city, her scars alerting her that her destination was approaching, that she was once again in her element, where she belonged. She dug her fists deeper into the fleece pockets of her hoodie.

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift toward Maura. Maura and her soft, warm body, Maura and her magical, color-changing eyes; green in the sunlight, graphite in the winter gloom, honey-gold when aroused or angry. All of Maura's endearing tics and tells flooded Jane's mind and warmed her from within; the way her lover licked her lips when she was anxious, her pink tongue flashing and retreating, the quizzical tilt of her head as she struggled to understand a bit of slang, the quick flare of her nostrils when something displeased her and the unselfconscious grin that warmed her face when she was happy, when her eyes lighted on Jane. Jane's body reacted to her as well; her pulse thrummed, her muscles tightened and relaxed, a warm heat spread from her belly, flushing her skin. Maura, like Boston, was home.

As if Jane's thoughts had summoned her, Maura appeared behind her, swaddled in the blue velour blanket. She wrapped her arms around Jane's waist, her hands slipping under the black and gold Bruins hoodie to rub up and down Jane's cool flanks. She pressed in closer, shivering, and laid warm lips against Jane's jaw. "It's cold, baby. Come inside."

Jane hummed her pleasure and pressed back against the warm body enfolding her. "I know, doctor, I'll catch pneumo-strepta-caca and wind up in bed….alone…from the cold air." Jane couldn't resist goading her genius girlfriend; nerdy Maura made her hot and tender all at once.

"No you won't. Very few of the viruses and bacteria that cause respiratory illness can survive in temperatures below freezing. You're more likely to become ill in a warm, heated room filled with people escaping the elements." Maura drew her brows together. "In fact, standing alone in the cold is probably the healthiest thing anyone can do in the winter."

"Ha! I knew it. Why don't you put on some clothes and join me out here." She pointed to a grayish-pink smudge just visible along the horizon line. "The sun is going to rise and we can watch it together."

The weak sunlight sluiced through snowy air and glanced off of smooth chunks of ice, bobbing in the current of Boston Harbor. Maura clutched tighter to her steaming coffee mug. They had just passed the runways of Logan airport, and she wondered about the people flying out of the city; was there a woman on board sitting next to the love of her life? Were they flying home to start a new life together? She wished them happiness as she reached across the small space for Jane's hand.

* * *

><p>Susie Chang rubbed her tired eyes. She had been up most of the night readying her science surprise, bustling around her cramped kitchen with mortar and pestle, measuring spoons and beakers, a dog-eared copy of the periodic table lying flat on her counter. She was stunned and delighted in equal measure when Angela had told her that she was Maura's dearest friend, outside of Jane, of course, and asked that she help organize the Welcome HomeComing Out party. Angela wanted to know who else they should invite, so Susie scoured her mind; scrutinizing and rejecting lab colleagues, assistant medical examiners, detectives and district attorneys. Of all the people who floated through their daily work life, Susie could not think of one who Dr. Isles would call a friend and certainly no one whom she would want to invite into the most private section of her private life.

"Do you have that guest list for me, Susie?" Angela had asked Friday morning as the Senior Criminalist helped herself to an oversized chocolate chip cookie and hot chocolate with marshmallows in the café. Had Maura been in, she would have had a cup of green tea and a bowl of muesli, hoping for a nod of approval from the woman she idolized.

"I don't, Angela. I've given it much thought and there really isn't anyone that Dr. Is…um, Maura, would want to celebrate with. I mean," she scrunched her brow in thought, "if I'm her second closest friend, there really isn't anyone else."

Angela wiped her hands on her apron and pulled the tiny criminalist in for a hug. "That's okay, sweetie. It will be a small party…very small. My Janie isn't exactly Miss Congeniality either. She has Barry and Vincent, Sean and her brothers."

"Do you think she'll want me there?" Susie squeaked. "Jane can be kind of…scary."

"Scary?" Angela laughed. "Janie lived at home until she was 35. In the winter she sleeps in Scooby Doo pajamas with feet. If she ever seems scary to you, think of her sitting on my couch with a bowl of cheese doodles in those pajamas. She's harmless, believe me."

Susie smiled and then giggled. The image of the dark, brooding detective in her cartoon jammies was incongruous, yet amusing. She hoped she could hold on to the picture in the face of the real woman.

Angela had shared her vision for the party, an amalgam of Jane's favorite things: softball and beer, the Red Sox and the Pats, Teletubbies (not a favorite, but Angela had her reasons) and lasagna, everything presented with a lesbian touch. "We wanna make sure the girls know they're accepted." Angela had intoned. "I looked it up on the PFLAG website; our party will be E.D.-approved."

"E.D.?" Susie asked. "Encephalitis disseminata? Endocrine disruptor? Erectile disfunction? Euclidean domain?" Her brain whirred like an overheated motor; Maura would be proud.

"Ellen DeGeneres, silly. She's like the queen of all lesbians."

Susie tittered, remembering the T-shirt Jane wore in Disney, the news clip had been uploaded to YouTube and played endlessly around the precinct house and in the morgue. "I think Jane is the Queen of all Lesbians."

"Hmmm." Angela frowned. "Right…so Ellen DeGeneres must be like…the lesbian Pope." She flashed on a quick image of her daughter and Maura, kneeling in church with the sunny, blonde television host blessing them, a crook in one hand and a mitre on her head. The daydream couple stood and turned, both heavily pregnant. Angela clapped her hands and grinned; there would be two wombs that could churn out grand babies for her. This was the best thing that could ever have happened for Jane and for Angela herself.

* * *

><p>"Fucking shit! Those lazy cock knockers…" Jane pounded helpless fists against her thighs, her teeth gritted in pent up fury.<p>

"What is it?"

"Look." Jane gestured to the icy driveway, smooth as a hockey rink, that rolled in a slight decline toward Maura's door. "We had this cleared to the concrete before we left. Those two shitbirds couldn't even throw a little salt on it. We could fall and break our asses, especially you in those hooker boots."

"Hooker boots? These are Louboutin."

"You're going to have a low booty when you fall, Maura; a low, icy cold booty with a big fat bruise on it."

Maura pouted then brightened. "You'll just have to carry me, Jane. You're wearing appropriately sturdy footwear."

"Fine." Jane grunted as she lifted Maura's weight into her arms, her mood brightening as her girlfriend wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed her cold nose to her cheek. "I think you planned this, Maura."

"I didn't, but it is a tradition for the groom to carry…uh, never mind."

Jane rolled her eyes, gingerly stepping onto the slick driveway. "S'okay, Maur. What did LaWandra say I was? The stud?"

"Mmm." Maura was playing with soft ebony ringlets, smoothing them with her fingers and tickling her cheeks with their ends.

"So when we get married, I will gladly carry you wherever you want to go." Jane took another tentative step and then a third.

"Paris for a week and then a week on the Spanish Riviera….no, we should go to Italy and see the land of your ancestors. Paris, then Costa del Sol, then Italy…no, we need to go to Lesbos as well."

Jane groaned and shifted Maura's weight, taking another step. "Babe, I know this is tacky as hell, but I think you put on those five to seven pounds on the cruise."

"I may have, but I'm also carrying about fifteen pounds of sand in my purse."

"What? Why?"

"It's from St. Martin. I'm going to make a Zen rock garden. I thought sand from our vacation would have special meaning."

"It will be special if I fall and break all four of our legs."

"You won't. You'd never drop me, Jane. I trust you."

"That makes one of us." Jane took three more slow steps and they were at the front door.

"See. I knew you'd never let me fall." Maura leaned in and captured soft lips with her own.

"Never." Jane murmured into her mouth. "I think I may have to carry you right into your bedroom."

"Our bedroom." Maura punched her code into the lock and the door clicked open. She shifted in Jane's arms, wrapping her legs around her girlfriend's narrow hips, deepening the kiss.

Jane kicked the door open, stepped through and pinned the smaller woman against it, grinding hard against her pelvis. Maura moaned, winding her fists in thick dark tresses.

"Surprise!"

Both women froze. Maura slowly slid down Jane's rigid body until her Louboutined feet were firmly planted on the tile of her entryway. A silvery strand of saliva still connected their mouths and Maura broke it with a nervous swipe of her tongue.

"Surprise." The waiting party-goers called again with a little less enthusiasm.

Maura turned around first, gasping as she caught sight of Angela and Sean, Frost, Korsak, Susie and Frankie, Tommy, Lydia and TJ, all crowded in the front entranceway wearing paper cone-shaped birthday hats featuring the Teletubbies. Jane remained leaning against the door, her eyes screwed shut. Jo Friday shot out from behind the wall of humans and danced around her owner, whinnying through her tiny nose in excitement.

"Unca Jane, Unca Jane!" TJ broke free and ran toward his aunt, wrapping his chubby arms around her calves.

"From the mouths of babes." Carla Talluci appeared behind Angela, sipping pink wine from a fluted glass.

"Shhhush." Her friend swatted at her. "TJ just calls her that because…just because."

Jane opened one eye and peered down at the pale little face gazing up at her with such love. She popped open the other eye and pulled the boy into her arms, along with her little dog.

"Happy gay, Unca Jane!" He beamed. "Did you bwing me pwesents?"

"Yup. Lots of them."

Everyone began talking at once, the tension somewhat relieved by the youngest Rizzoli, who was happily bouncing on Jane's hip and playing with her hair. Maura had recovered from her shock and was graciously greeting her guests, making small talk about the beautiful weather in the Caribbean and the jolt of returning home to snowy Boston.

"Janie?"

"What is this, Ma?"

"It's your Welcome Home/Coming Out party."

"My…what? Who said I was, um…well, I guess there's no unseeing what just happened in the doorway." Jane blushed.

"You red, Unca Jane." TJ poked her cheek and she growled, pretending to bite his hand. He pulled back, giggling.

"Ma, you sent us on a gay cruise, but…how did you know it worked out? What if we came home…um…straight or just friends. This party is assuming something that might not be and you've outed me to my entire squad."

"You outed yourself, Jane. Show her Tommy."

Her brother pulled out his phone and swiped a few times across the screen. "This is so cool, Jane. This clip has like 200,000 hits on YouTube."

She squinted at the small screen and then blanched. The news footage of the Epcot invasion played. Jane was front and center in her purple Queen of All Lesbians T-shirt, fake making-out with Maura whose back blazed with the word "Dyke."

Jane groaned. "Who else has seen this?"

"Everyone." Angela stated. "It made me so happy, Janie, that I've been walking on a cloud ever since. Good thing Detective Frost was able to download the news clip from the web so I can watch it again and again. If I hadn't won that cruise, you two would still be moping around lovesick and afraid to say anything."

"You're right, Ma. Thank you." She bent and kissed her mother on the side of her head, but the older woman grabbed her and squeezed hard.

"Stop it, Nana, you squishing me." TJ complained.

"Yeah, Nana." Jane seconded. "So who are these guys, TJ?" Jane tapped the paper hat on her nephew's head.

"Teletubbies."

"Oh yeah? Are they your favorite?"

"No." TJ rolled his eyes, looking so much like his aunt for a moment, despite the dramatic difference in their coloring. "They're for babies."

"Ah. I see."

"Lydia read someplace that the purple one is gay, so we added them to the decor. Plus, all of them together make up your gay rainbow."

"Sweet." Jane had seen enough rainbows this past week to last her until the next cruise or at least until Boston Gay Pride in June.

Susie studied the tall detective from her perch at the dining room table where she fussed over a pile of napkins, folding and refolding them into crisp pink triangles. Jane looked a bit softer with TJ in her arms, but as soon as she passed the boy to Maura, her face resumed its usual expression of cool acerbity. Susie swallowed hard and imagined the detective in a fuzzy brown dog costume with a tail and crooked ears. "Scooby Doo." She repeated to herself like a mantra. She set down the last napkin and walked into the living room. "Dr. Is…um, Maura and…J-Jane. I wish you both much happiness."

"Thanks, Suze." Jane punched her lightly on the arm and reached past her for a bowl of cheese doodles.

_Suze._ The little woman thought. _I have a nickname_. She could have floated away on a cloud of joy.

Maura put her arms around the criminalist and pulled her close. "Thank you for being here for me…for us, my dear friend."

_Dear friend. _Susie Chang's cloud floated into the stratosphere.

"Don't fill up on those cheese doodles, Janie. I made lezzagna for lunch. Get it?" Her mother cracked up at her own joke. "Lezzagna."

"Yeah, very funny. Ma. You could have made spa-gay-ti instead."

"You're right." Angela looked up at her happy daughter. "I think I like this new, gayer Jane. Coming out has really improved your disposition."

"Maura improves my disposition."

"Yes, she does, and you loosen her up a bit. You're perfect together."

"What is that?" Jane pointed to a life-sized horse mannequin, borrowed from the BPD Mounted Division recruitment office. Tommy had spray painted gold the cardboard insert from a roll of toilet tissue and tied it to the plastic beast's head. From its derriere, multi-colored streamers flowed, trailing across the room in a tangled jumble of paper.

"I read on the internet that the unicorn is the official animal of ligbatiqs, and Tommy read that they fart rainbows, so there you have it."

"Your spirit animal, Jane." Frost snickered, earning him an elbow to the ribs.

"The fuck is a ligba-whosis?"

"LGBTQ." Maura appeared beside her, proffering a bottle of beer. The label had been covered in lavender paper with the words "Queer Beer" written in Angela's neat cursive. Jane shook her head; her mother had thought of everything.

"Jane told me that to prove her love she would ride a unicorn down Boylston Street with her dildo strapped to her forehead." Maura giggled then blushed crimson as she realized she was no longer on a lesbian cruise ship, but in the middle of her own living room surrounded by Jane's family and their coworkers.

Jane hid her face behind both of her hands, but the red tip of one ear poking from beneath her black cascade of hair told her that her girlfriend was mortified. "Sorry." She whispered.

Frost was snorting and wiping tears from his eyes. Jane took a deep breath and uncovered her face. "S'all right, Maur. I did say that."

"Well, hop to it, Jane. Frankie and I carried that thing down three flights of stairs at the BRIC and up the icy driveway. It's solid, it will hold you. It would probably even hold Korsak's ass."

"But I don't have a dildo." The older detective deadpanned.

"You can insert a devil dog or a yodel in your mouth instead. Chocolate cake is your spirit animal." Jane quickly regained her sense of humor, the ribbing was good-natured.

"C'mon, Maura." She took her girlfriend's hand and marched her across the room until they stood in front of the plastic police horse. Resting her hands on the doctor's curvy hips, she lifted and Maura swung a leg around and mounted. Jane mounted behind her and pulled her close. "Go ahead, Ma, take a picture. But if I see this anyplace online or around the station, someone will die…a very ugly, painful death."

Susie Chang took the threat to heart; she would make it her mission to patrol the morgue and the hallways of the municipal building to search out and destroy anything that cast aspersion on her idol and her chosen life partner.

The doorbell rang and everyone froze. Jane frowned from her perch atop the plastic mock unicorn, alarmed at the thought of anyone outside of their tight circle seeing her in such as pose. Maura fiddled with the toilet-paper roll horn, lost in a fantasy of riding a real stallion along the shoreline of an empty white-sand beach, wrapped in Jane's strong arms. She leaned back into Jane, almost able to feel the spray of water tickle her ankles as their horse trotted through the breaking waves.

"Maura, darling!"

Maura's head snapped up at the sound of her name. In the foyer, under the watching eyes of her stuffed goat figurines, both now wearing pride rings, rainbow balloons tied to their horns, stood Constance Isles. Maura's mother looked exhausted; her suit hung wrinkled from her shoulders and her eyes were puffy.

"Mother?"

Constance inclined her head and spread her arms, her tired blue eyes sparkling with wry humor. Maura kicked the plastic flank of her unicorn, expecting it to canter across the living room toward her mother. When it didn't, she beamed a sheepish smile and slid from its back. She made her way slowly toward the older Dr. Isles, who still stood with her arms spread. The last few steps she ran and fell into her mother's waiting arms.

"Mother, how?" She mumbled into Constance's soft neck, still smelling faintly of Lalique Fleur de Cristal.

"Angela contacted me through the Isles Foundation website. She said you were having a coming out party. How could I miss that?" Constance hugged her daughter once more and released her, holding her hand. "Darling, get me a scotch and a seat. I've been in the air for nearly 30 hours."

"You flew from…" Maura took a moment to recall her conversation with her mother from earlier in the week. "…Beijing?"

"Yes, a direct flight to Boston with only two stops to refuel." Constance reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She looked to her daughter who grimaced, but nodded once.

"You know…" Constance sat on the sofa, crossed her legs and addressed the room. "We had a coming out party for Maura years ago. By 'coming out' I mean her debut into society, not her proclamation of her sexual identity."

"Mother…" Maura warned, passing her mother a tumbler of Laphroaig and a makeshift ashtray, a red solo cup filled part way with water.

Ignoring her daughter's unease, Constance took a long sip of her whisky, lit a cigarette and continued. "The Boston Cotillion…hmmm…1990, the Four Seasons Hotel. Maura wore a white Versace gown, and I personally did her makeup. She looked…lovely. An hour before we were due to leave, she locked herself in her room and refused to come out. Her father and I pleaded and threatened outside of the door to no avail. Eventually we gave up. I found her the next morning, asleep on the floor with a chemistry textbook and her turtle."

"Tortoise." Jane corrected stepping up to the sofa. "Hello, Constance."

"Jane." The elder Isles looked her up and down, dropped her cigarette into the cup of water and stood. "My daughter loves you; be worthy of it." She whispered into raven locks, punctuating her statement with a kiss to Jane's cheek.

"I will." Jane assured her.

Constance searched dark eyes with her own pale blue, looking for any sign of falsehood. Jane met her gaze and held it. "Fine. I'm entrusting to you that which is most dear to me; my only child."

"Mother, you're being excessively dramatic…"

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom." Constance intoned, lighting another cigarette.

"William Blake, Proverbs of Hell." Maura automatically recited.

"Most of Hell's Proverbs are a good bit wiser than anything you'll hear in a church."

Maura looked about nervously at Jane's Roman Catholic family. This was not the time for her mother to go off on one of her anti-religious tangents. Constance had clearly been drinking on her flight. "Mother, you must be hungry. Here, have a boeuf en croute." The pig in a blanket had been neatly cut into quarters as if Angela feared her daughter could no longer stomach tubular meats now that she had declared herself a lesbian.

Constance took a delicate bite and then another. "Did you make this yourself, Angela?"

"Yes." Jane's mother sat beside Maura's on the sofa. "Constance, what do you think of our girls getting together?"

Constance turned an appraising eye to her daughter who was holding tight to Jane's hand and laughing aloud at something Frost had said. She let out a tremendous snort, tottered on her high heels and fell into her girlfriend. Jane caught her around the waist and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm pleased." Constance said.

"Good!" Angela leaned in conspiratorially. "Will you help me plan the wedding?"

"Wedding?"

"Well, as far as I know, there's been no proposal, but we have to push them along. They're not young, and I want some grand babies."

Constance chuckled, reaching for another pig in a blanket. "I'll be in town for a few days; we should have ample time to orchestrate their entire lives."

TJ pushed aside his plate. His face was smeared with tomato sauce. "Can I sit on you, Auntie Moowa?"

Maura pulled the child into her lap, not at all disturbed by his sticky hands and their proximity to her cashmere sweater. Constance smiled at her daughter; perhaps Angela's baby fever was catching.

TJ walked his fingers up Maura's arm, eagerly following a trail of freckles up and under the long sleeve of her mint green sweater. The little hand stopped and the child squealed. "Look! Unca Jane!"

All eyes turned toward Maura's bared forearm and the lewd tattoo the doctor had momentarily forgot was inked, albeit temporarily, onto her creamy skin.

"Whoa, Jane! If you weren't my sister, I'd drool." Tommy leered until Lydia smacked him hard and he sat down, eyes firmly trained on the empty plate before him.

Constance reached across the table and grasped her daughter's arm, carefully studying the gloriously naked Jane Rizzoli on her pink dildo rocket. "Hmmpf." She pronounced. "The artist does have some talent, but I'd rather the canvas was not my daughter's body."

Frost laughed so hard he slipped under the table where his giggles floated up and hovered in the air like small soap bubbles.

Everyone else looked once, flushed, and studiously avoided a further glance.

"I'm weddy for dessert." The boy proclaimed, completely unaware of the upheaval his discovery had caused.

Angela was glad for the change of subject. "Dessert, yes. Good idea, TJ."

"What did you make, Ma? A chocolate gay-ke?" Frankie asked.

"A hair pie?" Tommy snorted.

"Eww." Frost wrinkled his nose, back in his seat, but still tittering.

"Millie-Joyce would like that one." Maura whispered in Jane's ear.

"No. I made nothing. Susie was in charge of dessert." Angela gestured to the criminalist who jumped up and made a dash for the kitchen.

She returned with a towering platter of cupcakes, half chocolate with vanilla frosting, half vanilla with chocolate frosting. "These are all organic. The chocolate is fair trade as are the vanilla beans."

Maura nodded her approval and Susie beamed. Placing the tray in front of her…her dear friend, she bit her lip and waited for Maura's response.

Maura laughed. "Gallium Yttrium! Delightful! Atomic numbers 31 and 39. Holmium, Molybdenum, numbers 67 and 42. Dysprosium, Potassium, Einsteinium; 66, 19, 99. Susie, this is wonderful, so very thoughtful."

Susie gestured to the Red Sox poster, the trademark socks covered with garish rainbow colored stockings and the cardboard cut out of quarterback Tom Brady draped in a tutu. "I wanted to make sure there was something here that you would appreciate. This is all very…um, Jane."

Maura pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the platter, the central row of cupcakes spelled out in chemical symbols from the periodic table: GaY, HoMo, DyKEs.

"Jane, would you like to be the Ho to my Mo?" Maura passed her girlfriend the Holmium cupcake.

"Any day, babe."

* * *

><p>"Your mother saved us half a dozen awkward coming out conversations." Maura shimmied into her pewter satin pajama bottoms and sat on the edge of the bed, content to watch Jane Noxzema her face and floss her teeth.<p>

"You don't think our coming out party was awkward?"

"No, not really. Our entrance was a bit uncomfortable, but it all went well after that…except for the tattoo, of course. That went over like an ununhexium balloon." Maura pulled one of her suitcases onto the bed and unzipped it, pulling out neatly folded capri pants and sundresses.

"Lead balloon, babe." Jane grunted through her floss. "We're not going to unpack tonight, are we?"

"Ununhexium is many times heavier than lead. The unpacking can wait until tomorrow, I just need to find one thing."

"Is it the dildo?" Jane waggled her eyebrows from the bathroom door.

"No…unless you want to ride your unicorn tonight with it strapped to your forehead. It may be your last chance; Barrold is going to take the horse back tomorrow."

"I think I'll pass, but only because your mother is in the next room."

"Very little shocks my mother; she's quite worldly."

Maura found what she was looking for and returned the suitcase to the stack on the floor. She slipped under the covers and waited. Jane finished in the bathroom and padded out in an Olivia T-shirt and Scooby Doo sweatpants. "I'm going to make the rounds, babe, be right back." Jane always checked every window and door in the townhouse, testing and resetting the alarm system on nights she slept at Maura's. _She will be sleeping here every night now._ Maura smiled to herself.

She returned to the bedroom and slid into the soft white cloud that was Maura's king-sized bed. "This sure beats that lumpy pile of rags we slept on all week."

"Mmm." Maura was grinning, her dimples fully popped. Jane leaned in and kissed one tender divot.

"What are you so happy about? We have to go to work tomorrow and it's snowing again. I'm setting the alarm for an hour earlier since I'm sure there will be some shoveling to do before we can get the cars out." She sighed, resting her head on Maura's pillow. "I wish we were lying on our lounge chairs next to the pool, listening to Beata sing Beach Boy tunes."

"Me too." Maura reached for Jane's hand under the comforter and began massaging her stiff fingers, a ritual they shared through years of friendship. Jane snuggled in closer and relaxed into her girlfriend's touch. "I love you so much, Maura."

Jane felt a change in Maura's rhythmic massage, a stutter and stop at her words, before the smooth rubbing began again, the doctor's practiced fingers moving on to the tendons of her hands. Jane swallowed back the panic that shot up from her belly. Maura's next words reassured her.

"I love you too, Jane. Always." Maura patted her hand then brought it out from under the covers and pressed a kiss to her scarred palm. Jane gasped at the sight of her own hand. Maura had slipped a platinum band onto her ring finger during the break in the rhythm of her massage.

"What is this?"

"It's a promise ring, Jane. I don't picture you wearing a big diamond solitaire."

"I…no, this is me. It's perfect." She admired the silvery metal band, heavy yet delicate, solid and graceful, studded with three deep-set diamonds. It looked right on her hand; it belonged there.

"You bought this on St. Martin, right? In that fancy-pants jewelry store while I was distracted by starvation…and your beauty."

"No." Maura's eyes sparkled gray-green in the light of the bedside lamp. "I bought it years ago right here in Boston, on Newbury Street. I've been holding onto it…waiting and hoping. I brought it with me on the cruise, a sort of good luck talisman. I was going to give it to you last night after you proposed, but I decided to wait; I wanted to slip it on your finger here, in our bed."

"Oh…babe." She rested her hand against Maura's soft cheek, momentarily mesmerized by the refraction of light off a glimmering diamond.

"Is that a yes, detective?"

Jane captured her lips in a tender kiss, willing all her love to travel in the gentle movements of her mouth. "Yes." She murmured. "Yes, yes, yes."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This is the end, my friends. Thank you all for your support.


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